Angel in Disguise
by AngelofMusic8578
Summary: Begins at the conclusion of the 2004 film. What if Erik hadn't escaped the mob? Now Erik is blind and helpless. Whose hands will catch him now? Then an Angel in Disguise shows him the light. Sucky summary. My first fic, so please be kind!
1. Attack in the Lair

Erik listened to the lovers' voices echoing through the caves. Their voices became softer and softer, until even their echoes had abandoned him. Erik didn't know why he was so afraid. He had never been afraid of being alone before. Yet, part of him wanted to run. Part of him wanted to hole up in some corner, curl up and cry. But Erik refused to bow to _that_ indignity.

"_I_'_ve lost Christine_," Erik thought to himself. "_I_'_m not going to lose my pride too_!" Erik's gaze was drawn to the many mirrors that reflected his lone figure.

All alone.

In a sudden rage, Erik put his fist through each of the mirrors, shattering them into billions of tiny shards. Then he screamed. He screamed pain and anguish. He screamed for God to strike him down where he stood. But only the sound of his own voice returning to him would answer. When the echoing stopped, another sound reached his ears…

The sound of angry voices…

Before Erik could react, the mob had entered his lair and, in seconds, had him surrounded. There was nowhere to go… no way to escape…

"There he is! The ghost!" Erik recognized the screeching voice as belonging to Carlotta. The mob advanced upon Erik, forcing him into a corner. They were all heavily armed with torches, clubs, pitchforks, and the like.

"You'll pay for your crimes!" cried the voice of Richard Firmin.

"Just leave me be…" Erik said in an agonized whisper.

"Give us one good reason! You wouldn't leave _us_ be!"

Someone grabbed Erik from behind and punched him hard in the stomach. Erik gasped as the air was knocked out of him. The same fist connected with Erik's jaw, making a sickening cracking sound. Erik fell to his hands and knees as anyone who managed to get close enough delivered kicks and blows to his ribs, back, arms, and legs. Erik grunted in pain, but refused to cry out. He would not give them the satisfaction. The blows ceased momentarily. Erik stood up, slowly as first, but then he was on his feet, setting his jaw and not letting pain bow his proud shoulders.

"Haven't had enough, have we?" Andre spat, grabbing Erik by the hair and slamming his face into the nearest wall. Erik's nose exploded into a fountain of blood. His lips split open and his eyes blackened. Andre slammed Erik's face into it again and again, until blood was splattered all over the wall. Erik was spun around to face the mob once more, only this time he was met with gasps, moans, and Carlotta's piercing scream. Erik raised a hand to his face and suddenly realized why the crowd was so frightened. His mask fell off when Andre slammed him against the wall, leaving his deformed face exposed for all to see.

"Oh, God! It's a monster!"

"It's hideous!"

"Kill it!"

The mob surged forward again, beating Erik down to the floor. Firmin ripped open Erik's shirt, drew a knife and began cutting into Erik's exposed flesh.

"No! Stop it! No!" Erik screamed, no longer caring about pride. "Leave me alone!"

"Silence, monster!" Firmin shouted, drawing his knife across Erik's face, leaving a gash that hung open and oozed.

"Come on!" Carlotta shrieked. "Let's kill him!"

"No!" Firmin said, throwing Erik face-first to the floor. "I have a better idea. I'd rather see this demon live out the rest of his wretched days in misery!"

Erik's arms were grabbed and pinned to the floor, side-by-side, with his palms facing down. Firmin laughed as he took a lead pipe from another man and stood poised over Erik's outstretched hands.

"Please… Monsieur…" Erik gasped through split lips. Begging was something Erik considered as the worst kind of degradation, but he was desperate. "Please, don't Monsieur… Please, show some compassion!" Erik's pleas fell on deaf ears. With a terrible smile, Firmin swung the pipe down with as much force as he could muster across Erik's outstretched hands.

Erik screamed as a dozen tendons snapped and countless tiny bones shattered. He screamed in pain. He screamed in grief. He screamed with the terrible realization that his once-graceful hands – the hands that once poured out the sweetest of melodies effortlessly – were ruined.

Erik's screams did not go unheard. In her room, pacing and praying for Erik's safety, Madame Giry froze when she heard Erik scream. Something was not right. Grabbing her coat, she prayed that she would not be too late to reach Raoul and Christine before the couple left Paris forever…

Meanwhile, Erik knelt on the floor, holding his broken hands to his chest and sobbing. "Why!" he cried. "Why! Haven't I paid enough? Haven't you degraded me enough?" Erik continued to cry as he held his broken hands in front of his face. "Destroyed…" he whispered, his voice so haunted that it even made some of the members of the mob shudder. "They're destroyed… with them my music… my livelihood… IT'S OVER NOW! THE MUSIC OF THE NIGHT!"

The mob backed away in fear. Some fled the lair and returned to the world of light. Only Firmin and a few others dared to linger. "We're done here," Firmin said quietly. As what remained of the mob began to disperse, Firmin turned and swung the pipe at the back of Erik's head. However, poor aim caused the blow to be delivered to his neck and not his head. Regardless, Erik collapsed, unconscious.

"Sleep well, murderer…"


	2. Darkness Stirs

**Chapter Two! I know it's kind of short, but I promise I'll update again really soon! I hope it's good enough. Special thanks to Erik's Mistress and Tadriendra of Mirkwood for reviewing! Yay reviews! Anyway, here it is…**

XxXxX

"I can't go back!" Christine fought with Madame Giry in front of the coach.

"We're leaving Paris to escape that cursed Opera House!" Raoul supported her.

"Please," Madame Giry begged. "Something's wrong. Something's very wrong! I know Erik better than anyone… Perhaps even better than he knows himself! I heard that scream… I've never heard him scream like that before."

Christine sighed. "Erik's just upset that I'm leaving. In time, he will come to see that it is best…"

"It's not Erik's broken heart that has me worried," Madame Giry argued. "I feel that someone has done something to him. Something horrible. I fear he may have been put in harm's way…"

"But he is safe in his lair!"

"Actually…" Raoul said quietly, "when I went… down _there_… for you, I… I heard people coming. They were looking for a way around the lake."

"What! Why didn't you say something!"

"Because I didn't think they'd actually find him! Or I thought he would at least be wise enough to hide!"

"Do you think someone could have found him?"

"I think it's possible…" Madame Giry said gravely.

"We must help him!" Christine headed for Madame Giry's carriage.

"Wait!" Raoul protested. "Christine!"

XxXxX

Madame Giry crossed the lake alone. Christine and Raoul were busy arguing outside the secret entrance. Raoul clearly didn't want to go back to Erik's lair, however, Christine felt that they must. Madame Giry knew that there was no time to waste, so she left the couple alone and went down by herself.

She stepped from the boat into Erik's home. "Erik!" She noticed the shattered mirrors. There was blood on the floor. But where was Erik?

"Erik!"

She heard a soft whimper from behind the organ.

"Erik?"

She gasped when she saw his battered body. There was so much blood! His face was a complete mess. She wouldn't have recognized him, were it not for those green eyes, barely open, staring out into nothingness. Madame Giry knelt and took Erik into her arms and rocked him. Who could do this to her little Erik? Who could be so cruel? She looked at his hands mournfully. He would never play again, she knew.

Madame Giry looked into Erik's eyes. "Oh, Erik… You poor thing… Erik…" She stopped short. Something wasn't right. There was something wrong with his eyes! They were open, but… they weren't focusing. At first, she was afraid that this was his death-stare. She quickly put her hand on his bare chest, and let out a sigh of relief when she felt the steady rhythm of his chest rising and falling. He was still breathing. She lifted her hand and waved it in front of his face.

He didn't see it.

"Oh, mon Dieu! What have they done?"

"Madame Giry!" Christine and Raoul suddenly appeared in the lair. Obviously, Christine had won the argument.

"Oh, Erik…" Christine whispered, kneeling down beside him. "Erik, I'm so sorry. I should have known better than to leave you here all by yourself. I'm sorry… Oh, look at your hands! Your beautiful hands! They're… they're… Madame Giry, why isn't he looking at me?"

Raoul grimaced at the sight of Erik. "Oh… oh, my… what have they done…?"

"Madame Giry!" Christine cried, taking Erik's face into her hands. "What's wrong with him? Why won't he look at me?"

"Christine…" Madame Giry choked.

"Don't…" Christine said. "Don't tell me they killed him! Don't say it!" She put her ear to his chest. "He's not dead… he's not… I can hear his heart beating… he's fine… he'll be alright… Erik? Look at me! Please, Erik… Erik…?"

"Christine, it's useless," Madame Giry wept softly. "Stop it. It's useless. Oh, Christine. Those wicked people… They've made him blind!"


	3. Broken and Blind

**Here's Chapter Number Three! I know, another short one, but I promise that this is setting the stage for some better, _longer_ chapters. Oh, and just to clear up any confusion, Erik has gone blind as a result of being hit in the back of the head by Firmin. I understand I didn't really make that clear in the last two chapters, but it's mentioned in this chapter, so it shouldn't be so confusing. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Reviews are wonderful things. And I'll update tomorrow if YOU review. So review! Anyway, chapter three…**

XxXxX

Erik slowly returned to consciousness. Every fibre in his being ached.

"My hands…" he rasped.

Erik became aware that he was no longer lying on the floor in his home. Rather, he was lying on what he assumed was a soft bed. A warm blanket was pulled over him. His hands were wrapped in bandages, as was his chest. Erik was curious as to where he was, so he opened his eyes.

Everything was so dark. Erik waited a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. But he still couldn't see. Well, he wasn't about to start panicking. He sat up, ignoring the erupting pain in his body. He put his legs over the side of the bed and set his feet on the floor. He felt a soft carpet under his toes.

He took a couple shaky steps across the room, shuffling his feet and holding his hands in front of his body. After a few small steps, Erik's hand touched a wall. He felt around, looking for a way out of the dark room. His search was rewarded when his hand touched what he assumed was a doorknob. Erik twisted it and opened the door.

The darkness was out there, too! What was this place?

"Hello?" he called.

"Erik!" shrieked a familiar voice.

"Madame Giry?" Erik felt her grab his shoulders.

"Come! You shouldn't be out of bed!" She led him back to the room he was in before. Erik decided that she must be well-acquainted with this place (wherever they were) to be able to find her way around in total darkness.

"Madame? Where are we? Why is it so dark?"

"Hush, Erik," she said, helping him lay down on the bed again. "You're in my home."

"Why is it so dark? Why haven't you lit a lamp or a candle or something?"

"Erik…" Madame Giry didn't know what to tell him. He genuinely believed that he was simply sitting in a dark room. He was so unaware of the light that spilled into the room through the window, illuminating the room.

"Erik, what do you remember before you woke up here?"

"Christine left me…" he said sadly. "Then the mob came… they beat me… Oh, Madame! My hands! They've destroyed my hands!" He began to cry bitterly.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Firmin… he hit me… back here…" Erik took her hand and led it to the sore spot on the back of his neck, just inches below the base of his skull.

Madame Giry sighed heavily. "Erik… please try to understand what I am about to tell you. When Firmin hit you, it… well, it… it caused some problems. It… it made you… lose your sight."

Erik said absolutely nothing. He sat there for what seemed like hours, his unseeing eyes staring in Madame Giry's direction.

"Blind?" he whispered, finally.

"Yes, Erik," Madame Giry tried to sound as comforting as possible. "I'm so sor–"

"You're lying!" he snarled, causing her to jump back. "It's not true!"

"Erik…"

"Please…" Erik's voice wavered a bit. "Please, tell me it's not true!"

"I'm sorry, Erik," Madame Giry felt tears filling her eyes. "But it's true…"

Erik turned his face away from her. "Broken and blind," he said, ironically. "Next it'll be deaf and dumb… As if my life weren't bad enough! If only God had struck me down in that lonely Hell!"

"Erik… you don't mean that…"

"Leave me."

"Erik…"

"LEAVE ME! JUST GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Madame Giry backed out of the room slowly, closing the door behind her. Inside the room, she heard Erik's soft sobbing. How it wrenched at her heart.

XxXxX

**Aww… It's so depressing… OK, I know that was rather short and non-exciting, but it'll get better! I promise! Just review!**


	4. A Stubborn Mule

**Wahoo! I'm on a role! Fourth Chapter in already! Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Please don't hate because I'm making Erik's life Hell, because I really love Erik! I really do! I love Gerard Butler more, but that's besides the point! Anyway, maybe this chapter will send some of you away smiling…**

XxXxX

"Madame Giry," Christine said, entering the Giry home. "I still don't quite understand why I'm here."

"I hope you will in time," Madame Giry said, taking Christine's coat. "How long will you and Raoul be staying in Paris?"

"As long as we have to. I didn't want to leave until I was certain that Erik would be alright."

"Ah, yes. Erik. Precisely the reason I have asked you over today."

"Is he alright?"

"I'm not so sure. He hasn't left his room for the past two days. He won't eat, he won't talk to anyone… he's either screaming as me or sobbing his poor eyes out… I just don't know what to do with him! I'm at my wit's end!"

"What do you want _me_ to do?"

"Perhaps… maybe you could just… talk to him? I feel that if you can't get through to him, no one will!"

"Madame… I don't know what to say to him… I mean, what do you say to someone like Erik who has just lost their sight?"

"Say whatever you would say to him under normal circumstances," Madame Giry replied, as she headed off to the kitchen to make some tea.

Christine lifted her skirts and headed up to Erik's room. "If the circumstances I've ever spoken with him under can be considered _normal_," she muttered to herself.

Christine reached his door and hesitated before knocking softly.

"Go away!" Erik shouted through the door.

"_Well_," Christine thought to herself. "_That was uncalled for_!" She considered leaving. But, no. Erik needed her help. And she had to give it to him, whether he wanted it or not.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door. Erik was lying on the bed, facing her. Staring at Christine, but not seeing her. In the three days since they found him in his lair, Erik looked much better. His bruises had faded, and his cuts were no more than red lines drawn across his pale skin. His fractured ribs would heal within a few weeks. However, it would be longer before he could use his hands again. And even then, she knew, his hands would never be what they once were.

"_Damn the people who did this to him_…" Christine thought. "_Damn them_."

At the sound of her entering, Erik raised his head slightly. "Madame, I do believe that I clearly informed you to _go away_!" Erik's voice was icy with resentment. "Is it so difficult for you to figure out that I just want to be _left_ _alone_? Oh, and if you're here to try and force some of that vile nutrition down my throat," Erik nodded his head at the night table, which bore a tray with a few pieces of cold toast and a tall glass of orange juice, "I'll have none of it! I told you before, I am not hungry!"

Christine stared at him in shocked silence.

"Madame? Do I not even get the courtesy of a reply now?"

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come.

"Madame? Madame Giry! Do you intend to stand there all day and stare at me?" Erik sat up, keeping his face pointed at the door. Christine saw both anger and sadness reflecting in those unseeing eyes. "Do you derive some sick and twisted pleasure from seeing me like this? Ha! Some phantom, right? Your hand at the level of your eyes! Beware the Phantom of the Opera!" Erik's eyes glistened and spilled over with tears. "The blind, broken, helpless Opera Ghost!"

Suddenly, Erik began to make his way over to her, one hand outstretched. He drifted a bit and found a wall instead of the door. Correcting himself, he made his way over to where Christine stood and planted himself inches in front of her. Putting his hand out, he found her shoulder and trailed down until he found her wrist, which he grabbed and shook roughly.

"Madame! You mock me! Were you half the kind Christian woman you believe yourself to be, you would have left me to die!"

Erik paused as another sense took over his consciousness. His sense of smell. He smelt a soft fragrance of roses and vanilla, with a touch of lavender. That was a smell from his memory. He _knew_ that smell!

Quickly, he pulled Christine the rest of the way into the room. Stepping behind her, but not letting go of her wrist, he shut the door and turned to her. His expression had softened. Pulling Christine close, he buried his face in her hair, taking in her sweet fragrance. He let his hands trail around her waist, pulling her closer, and then rested them on her hips.

"Christine…" he moaned into her ear.

"Erik…" she stepped back from him and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Don't touch me!" he suddenly shouted violently, jerking away from her touch. This sudden movement made him lose his balance and he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. He gave a small yelp as the impact upset one of his injured ribs. Christine rushed to his side.

"Are you alright? Let me help you up!"

"Stop! I can do it myself!" He moved away from her and staggered to his feet. Reaching out, he found the edge of the bed and sat down. "You shouldn't have come here, Christine!" he snapped. "You don't know a thing about what I'm going through!"

"Save the guilt-trips for someone who cares!" Christine found herself shouting. She could hardly believe what she was saying, but trying to be gentle was getting her nowhere. "You've spent the last two days sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself! It's about time you accepted what has happened and try to make the most of it!"

"Make the most of it! I can't _see_! My hands are ruined! And now I don't even have you in my life to keep me going! I'm as good as dead!"

"That's not true!" she yelled. "I'm here for you! I always have been! Just because I don't want to be your lover doesn't mean I don't care!"

Erik turned his head to the floor. "I'm not what I used to be…"

"Is that so terrible?"

"Christine! I'm a composer! Even if I could still see, I'll never be able to play an organ again!"

"So you'll learn how to do something else!"

"Oh, like what!"

"Like… like…" Christine wracked her brain.

"You see? There is nothing!"

"Please! You can't expect me to come up with the perfect profession on the spot!"

"Open your eyes, Christine! What can I possibly do for myself?"

"Well, you certainly can still argue, you stubborn mule!"

"Stubborn? I'm not the one trying to tell a blind man he can do things when it is quite obvious that he _can_'_t_!"

"You fool! You _can_ do things!"

"What, then? Pray tell!"

"You can still _sing_, you slack-hawed idiot!"

Erik was shocked at the insult that he would have expected to hear from the lips of a drunken sailor. And yet, it was true. Perhaps Erik could no longer play or compose, but his voice was still quite intact. However, true as that may be, Erik _was_ a stubborn mule, and he wasn't about to let Christine win the argument.

"I… I…" Erik stammered. "I can't believe you just called me an idiot!"

"Well then, perhaps you should stop acting like one!"

"_I_ am certainly not the idiot, here," Erik said, standing up. "You suggest I work as a singer. What opera or theatre or… or… or church choir even… would hire a blind monstrosity like me!"

"You are so certain that you will be rejected!" Christine accused him. "Did you ever consider just once that maybe if you gave society a chance that perhaps society would give _you_ a chance?"

Erik growled. He was losing the argument, and he knew it.

"I hate you…" he muttered.

"Good!" she said, satisfied that she now had the upper hand. "But before you can go anywhere to audition, you have to learn some independence first. Madame Giry and I will show you how to get around, read Braille, make your own meals, and everything… Speaking of meals," she said, picking up the tray of food from his night table, "you are going to finish this meal that Madame Giry so kindly prepared for you… _Now_!"

Erik cringed. When did _she_ become his mother?

XxXxX

**Let me know if it's completely stupid. But no flames, please! I'll update tomorrow if I can…**


	5. Lessons

**OK, I guess I'm going to have to address a few things. I must admit, as an author, it seems I've failed to do my research. No, I don't know if Braille was around in the 1870s. But when you think about it, Braille was widely used in the 1880s, so it probably wouldn't be too difficult to believe that it could have been used ten years earlier. But it case it wasn't, we'll just say it was for this story! There we go! Artist license! Gotta love it! Also, with regard to Erik's injury that made him do blind, a hard blow to the back of the neck could cause a person to go blind by either bending or damaging the nerves that affect the eyes. I'm still new to this whole story-writing thing and sometimes I write stuff without realizing that some people don't understand what's going through my head or they don't understand some of the background information, so if I do something like this again, please don't hesitate to send a review and ask me about it.**

**Now that that's cleared up, onto the next chapter!**

XxXxX

After that, Christine was over at Madame Giry's home almost every day to help Erik slowly regain his independence. The first few days were spent teaching Erik how to find his way around using a cane. It began with simply walking around his room. Then he was made to navigate a few other rooms in the house. His progress was slow at first. He kept bumping into tables and knocking things over. But Erik was determined, and in time he moved from room to room with grace. Using the stairs was his next biggest challenge.

"By sliding your foot forward, you can feel the edge of the stair and step down. Remember to keep your cane out so you can feel the floor. Hold onto the banister. There we go… come on… it's not that hard, you see?"

"No, I don't see," Erik smiled mischievously.

"Nice to see your sense of humour hasn't suffered," Christine laughed.

"I didn't know I _had_ a sense of humour."

Next came learning how to read using Braille. Christine bought as many books as she could find to help her teach Erik this new skill.

"You feel those bumps?" she asked him. "That's a 'C.'"

Erik got easily frustrated over these reading lessons. They didn't come as easily to him as learning how to use his cane.

"Oh, none will… m-mourn me… when I am… dead… Give heed to… the surly… b... b... This is impossible!" Erik declared, throwing the book down. "I'll never get the hang of it!"

"Don't say that!" Christine said, picking up the book. "You were doing just fine!"

"It's so hard."

"Did you expect it to come easily?" Christine asked, handing him the book again.

Erik sighed and picked up where he left off. "Oh, none will mourn… me, when I am dead… Give heed to the surly… bells that I have… fled… From this…vilest… w-world… of vilest worlds… to dwell."

"See? You _can_ do it!"

As the days turned into weeks, Erik's skills improved. Christine even found that sometimes he would meet her on the porch on the days she came to continue their lessons. Sometimes, if the day was fair, they would go for long walks together, Erik gently holding Christine's hand for security. At times, some young men on the streets passing by them would make catcalls at Christine. In such cases Erik would bristle and his grip on his cane would tighten until his knuckles turned white and, to avoid a scene, Christine would take him back home again.

One day, Christine entered the Giry home and found that, for once, Erik wasn't there to meet her. Hurrying up to his room, Christine found Erik standing and facing a bedpost, his Punjab lasso in hand. Erik threw the Punjab at the post, but he had misjudged his position and the lasso sailed past, catching air.

"Erik, what are you doing?"

"Did I get it?"

"No. Nearly, but no. You threw it a little too far."

Erik grumbled and pulled the lasso back again.

"Why are you practicing with the Punjab? Erik, I don't want you to turn back to your killing ways!"

"I'm practicing for _your_ sake," Erik replied. "If one of those wretched boys on the streets ever came after you during one of our walks… If they tried to rob you or take you away, knowing that I am blind… I wouldn't be able to live with myself, Christine…" Erik took the Punjab and prepared to throw it again. "Besides… a man should know how to defend himself."

Erik threw the Punjab again. This time it hit the side of the bedpost and slid off.

"Did I get it that time?"

"No."

"Blast!"

"You were very close that time."

"It doesn't matter how _close_ I was! I still missed!"

"Here," she said, moving behind him. "Let me be your eyes…" She took his hand and held it out in front of him, pointing it at the bedpost. "It's right there… about eight feet in front of you…"

Erik threw the Punjab once again. This time, it landed neatly over the top of the bedpost and pulled tight around it.

"I got it?"

"Yes, Erik!" Christine smiled, coming around to hug him. "You got it!"

Erik was surprised by her embrace but, after a moment, returned it happily. He lifted her off her feet and swung her around. Christine giggled girlishly. Erik put her down on the floor again. Then, before he knew what he was doing, he bent down and kissed her fiercely.

"_What am I doing_?" Erik thought. "_She_'_s engaged_!"

But then Christine returned the kiss with a passion that matched his. Erik ran his hands down her back, grabbed hold of her small hips and pulled them up to meet his own. Christine gasped as she felt his growing desire push into her, straining to get through the barrier of clothing. Pulling him down to her, Christine laid back onto the bed while Erik hovered inches above her. Touching and feeling, he explored her body… her face, her lips, her slender neck, her heaving bosom, her sloping stomach… every inch of her. Each touch set Christine on fire, filling her with passion.

Erik was pleased with the contented little noises escaping from the figure below him. This is what he always wanted. To completely possess her mind, body and spirit. If only he could see the beautiful creature in his arms… if only he could see the look of satisfaction on her face…

Erik continued searching her with his hands. "Oh… yes, Erik," she moaned. "Yes. Erik. Erik! Yes! Oh, yes!"

Christine looked into Erik's eyes, which were hanging open, probably without him even realizing it. Those unseeing eyes burned through her, passionate and filled with love. For her.

But then another face entered her mind… Raoul… Raoul, with a look of pain and sadness upon his face. Raoul, filled with grief over finding her unfaithful. So unfaithful…

Christine suddenly felt dirty. Women like her belonged on the streets! In a flash, she pushed Erik off of her and jumped off the bed, backing away from him.

"Christine?" Erik couldn't find her. She was beneath him only a moment ago. Now she was gone.

She quickly ran to the mirror, smoothing her unruly locks of hair and smoothing her dress. No one must ever know what she had done. She was filthy!

"Christine…" Erik held out a hand, searching for her. "Christine… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…"

"I'm sorry, Erik," Christine whimpered, backing towards the doorway. "I can't… I just can't… I'm sorry… I should go now…"

"Christine, please… Wait!"

Christine fled the room and ran as fast as she could from the house. She hopped into her carriage and raced for home.

XxXxX

**Well, damn! Poor Erik just isn't getting a break! I hope I didn't overdo it in the kissing scene. I really don't want to trash a good story by making it all sex and fondling. R/C shippers may hate me for writing that, and E/C shippers may hate me for cutting it short! But hey, I can't please everyone! Check in tomorrow, and you just might find an update!**


	6. A Lie and an Apology

**Here's the chapter you've all been waiting for! Actually, it's rather short. It's just meant to tie up a few loose ends before we get into some new plot twists and exciting scenes... The good stuff's not far off! Please just bear with me, keep reading, and review! Oh, and by the way, I do happen to be an E/C shipper. Will this be an E/C fic? Well... I guess you'll just have to keep reading and find out!**

XxXxX

Raoul was standing in the kitchen sipping some hot tea when Christine came home. He noticed that she looked rather frazzled.

"You're home early, aren't you?" he asked.

Christine nodded, not meeting his gaze, for fear that her eyes would give away the crime that she had just committed. "We ended lessons early today…"

"Is something wrong?"

"Ah, no! Erik… he… he wasn't feeling well!"

"Is he alright?"

"Oh… I'm sure he will be. He just needs some rest."

Raoul set his cup down and moved over towards Christine. "Darling," he said slowly. "I must admit that I am concerned… You're over there everyday. I hardly see you anymore."

"I know, _Cherie_," Christine sighed. "I just didn't want to leave him helpless. I promise, when he's learned enough to not need me anymore, we will leave and then we can marry."

Raoul smiled gently, leaned down and kissed her. Christine smiled, but in the back of her mind, a small, taunting voice haunted her, whispering, "_It_'_s_ _not the same as Erik_…"

XxXxX

Later that evening, Christine sat on her porch alone, pondering the events of that morning. Why? Why did she do what she did? Why on earth did she kiss Erik? Why, when it was Raoul who she truly loved? Of course Erik was a very special man to her… Her teacher… But why! Why did she feel so… strange? Erik hugged her. How does a hug turn into…?

Christine sighed. How stupid she was! The poor man just wanted a comforting hug. How she led him on! He was going through enough. His whole life has been turned upside-down. The last thing he needed was some street trash like her to go about confusing him!

Christine's thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise…

_Tap_… _Tap_… _Tap_… _Tap_…

What was that?

_Tap_… _Tap_… _Tap_… _Tap_…

Whatever it was, it was getting louder. Christine stood up and looked out into the darkness. Erik, using his cane as a guide, was slowly making his way up the walk.

"Erik!" she cried, rushing out to meet him. "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be wandering around in the dark!"

"Is it dark?" he asked, surprised. "I apologize. I thought I might make it here before it got late. Perhaps I should go."

"No! Stay!" Christine led him up to the porch and helped him sit. She was glad to see that Erik, for the most part, looked like his old self again. He was dressed in his best eveningwear and flowing black cloak, with his white mask set perfectly in place. His injuries form weeks ago were gone. Even his hands looked normal. The manner in which he carried himself when he walked – even with the cane – gave an air of confidence. Yet, despite this, Christine noticed that Erik looked very unsure of himself as he sat there beside her. Nervous, really.

"Christine, I–" he began.

"How did you find this place?"

"What? Oh. Madame Giry told me how to get here."

"And you _walked_ here all the way from her house?"

"Well… yes."

"You must be exhausted! You should come inside–"

"No! Christine–" Erik exhaled deeply. "There is something I wish to tell you… I wanted to say… I wanted to apologize for my behaviour this morning."

"Erik, I–"

"Please. Let me finish? You desired only to embrace me as one would a dear friend or student. And I… behaved like an animal instead of a man. You are the Vicomte's fiancée, and it was irresponsible of me to let my… feelings… get the better of me. I sincerely apologize, and if you wish to cease our lessons, I understand. But I hope that you would give me a chance to redeem myself."

Christine's heart ached for him. He really thought she wanted to leave him? She reached out and put her arms around him. He did not return the embrace.

"Erik, there is little you can do that would make me leave you now."

Erik's voice was void of all emotion. "Thank you, Christine. Then I shall await you for lessons tomorrow morning. But now, I should return to Madame Giry's."

"Oh, no you don't!" Christine said, grabbing his shoulders as he went to stand up. "I am not letting you walk all the way back again! You're coming with me in my carriage!"

Taking his hand, she led him away, making a mental note to tell Madame Giry not to let Erik wander around so late at night.

XxXxX

**Aww... Poor Erik... Check in tomorrow for updates! Oh, and this is not going to be a Raoul-bashing fic. Don't you just hate it when we turn the poor fop into a wife-beater, or cheater, or insane guy, or gay guy, or alcoholic, or some other negative image? I mean, in the actual story he DID risk his life for Christine. But anyway, I'm not exactly sure what I'm gonna do with him in this fic. He might just stay where he is!**


	7. Audition and Amarie

**Awww... Y'all've been spoilin' me! "Y'all've?" Is that a word? Sheesh, I'll never understand American slang. Anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love reviews! Here's the new chapter. I think you'll all like this one. It's not an edge-of-your-seat thriller, but we meet some new characters in this chapter, and it has a few humourous moments. So here it is!**

XxXxX

"Here we are," Christine announced, bringing the carriage to a stop in front of a dingy-looking theatre. "_La Soleil Rouge_!"

It had been three weeks since that night when Erik arrived at her doorstep. Erik's lessons continued, and neither he nor Christine ever mentioned again what had happened between them that day. Now Christine felt that Erik was ready to audition for a position at a theatre. _La Soleil Rouge_ was not grand, but it was about as far away from Paris as possible, which was a good thing. The Phantom of the Opera was infamous in Paris, and the last thing Erik needed was someone recognizing him.

"Now, Erik," Christine turned to him. "Who are you?"

"I am Erik Giry… I'm from Paris… I'm a war veteran."

"And who is Madame Giry to you?"

"She is my aunt… my father's sister."

"And who are your parents?"

"Richard and Rachel Giry… both deceased…"

"And who am I?"

"A friend of the family…"

"Good. Just remember all that and you'll be fine."

"Christine, I'm not so sure about this…"

"Oh, you'll be fine!"

Taking his hand, Christine led him inside the theatre. Monsieur Lachappelle, a short man in a rumpled suit, was alone inside the auditorium. He sat on a stool, writing in a little black book. He looked up when Christine entered with Erik, and scowled.

"There is no play today!" he snapped.

"We're not here for a play!" Christine said coldly.

"Figures…" Lachappelle muttered under his breath.

"We're here for an audition," Christine informed him.

"Ah… I see… Have you ever been involved in theatre before, mademoiselle?"

"Actually, I'm not the one who's auditioning," Christine glanced up at Erik. "He is."

"He is?" Lachappelle eyed Erik dubiously.

"Yes. He is."

Lachappelle sized Erik up. He noticed how Erik didn't meet his gaze. That mask was curious as well.

"What's wrong with him?" Lachappelle asked Christine, as if Erik weren't even there.

"Monsieur Erik Giry was once a soldier in the French army," Christine explained. "An unfortunate accident during battle left him blinded and scarred. See? He wears that mask to cover his wounds. But, never mind that. I assure you, you will not hear a more angelic voice than that of Monsieur Giry's."

Lachappelle cocked his head and examined Erik more closely. "War hero, eh? Might appeal to the female faction. They do dote so on tragedy."

"Quite so," Christine agreed. "And it is said that Monsieur Giry is quite the charmer!"

It was all Erik could do to keep from sneering.

"Very well," Lachappelle said. "Let's see what he has."

Christine led Erik up to the stage. It was small compared to that of the Opera Populaire, but it would do well, she was sure.

"Christine…" Erik reached for her hand. His voice sounded desperate.

"You will do fine… Don't be nervous…"

"I am not nervous!" he muttered under his breath, indignantly. He took in a few deep breaths and began. "_Slowly_,_ gently_,_ night unfurls its splendour_._ Grasp it_._ Sense it_._ Tremulous and tender_._ Turn your face away from the garish light of day_._ Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light and listen to the Music of the_–"

"Ooooooo! Papa!" came a girlish squeal. A young girl with lovely red locks and green eyes, about fourteen years old, leapt onto the stage beside Erik. "Who is this _remarkable_ _gentleman_!"

"Amarie!" Lachappelle squawked. "I'm in the middle of an audition!" He sighed heavily. "This is Monsieur Erik Giry, the war hero from Paris."

"Oh, a war hero! How tragic! How do you do, Monsieur Erik?" she asked, holding out her hand for him to kiss.

Erik, not seeing her hand, merely said, "Very well, mademoiselle." It was plain to Christine that Erik was _not_ comfortable with this girl, and that he didn't take too kindly to her interrupting him in the middle of his audition. He did, after all, want to impress the manager, and he could not do so very well with the man's daughter drooling all over his shoes.

"Do you not kiss the hand in Paris?" she asked, quite perturbed that he had not taken her hand yet.

Erik looked thoroughly confused. "Pardon?"

"Why does Monsieur not look me in the eye? Oh, I understand fully! Monsieur le war hero is simply shy around pretty young girls!" Amarie clung to Erik's arm. "Do not despair! We shall become the best of friends!"

"I'm afraid you don't quite understand, Amarie," Christine smiled gently. "Monsieur did not kiss your hand simply because he could not see it. He does not look at you because he lost his sight in battle."

"Blind?" she gasped. "Oh, poor unfortunate Monsieur! How tragic!"

"My daughter is quite the romantic," Lachappelle explained to Christine. "Her instincts are rarely mistaken. What do you think, Amie?" he asked his daughter. "Will Monsieur Giry make a fine addition to our theatre?"

"Oh, oui!" she exclaimed without hesitation. She still clung to Erik's arm and gazed up at him adoringly.

"It's settled then. Welcome aboard, Monsieur!" Lachappelle said grandly. "We will meet later to discuss the terms of your contract." Christine helped Erik down from the stage, gently pulling him away from Amarie.

"How old was that woman who was so effectively cutting off the blood-flow to my arm?" Erik muttered to her.

"Hardly a woman. She appeared about fourteen."

"Wonderful," he said sarcastically. "My new 'best friend' is a mere child!"

"She was quite smitten with you!" Christine teased him.

"Are you sure this is such a good idea?"

Christine smiled at him. "Every young girl falls in love at some point during their blossoming… So Amarie has taken a fancy to you. How terrible could it be? Just remember… you're a war hero. People admire you." She paused. "Or… I suppose if you really don't want to go through with this, we could always take you back to Paris and you can go back to living _all alone_ under the Opera Populaire…"

Erik grunted. "I suppose I… could give this new… _position_… a chance, perhaps? As long as that child will allow me some room to breath! I do require _some_ solitude, you know."

"Just try not to break her heart…" It was meant as a joke, but Erik detected a twinge of pain in her tone.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Then Christine rushed forward and hugged him. "You will thrive here. I know." Erik held her embrace momentarily. Then she pulled away from him. He reached out to touch her cheek.

"Thank you, Christine… for everything…" Erik pulled his hand away from her face. Her cheek… it was wet.

"Christine? Are you crying?"

"I must go!" Christine said in a choked sob. He heard a swish of her skirts as she turned away from him. Her boots echoed off of the stone floors. They stopped a few yards away. "Good luck, Erik…" Christine's voice was small and childlike. Then her footsteps disappeared into nothingness.

Erik couldn't understand. Why was she so upset? Fear wrenched at his heart. The same kind of fear that had possessed him that last time Christine had left him. He didn't know why, but something in his heart told him that it would be a long time before he ever saw her again…

XxXxX

**DUN DUN DUN! Anybody else catch a little bit of foreboding in this chapter? Keep reading! Oh, isn't Amarie cute? I hope you all like her. She's going to be hanging around for the next little while. Maybe she'll get less annoying...**


	8. Erik's Contract

**Here's a new chapter! Again, not very exciting, but we're getting into the good stuff, we really are! (Right Amy, you've been saying that for the last five chapters...) So enjoy and don't forget to review!**

XxXxX

Amarie took Erik on a tour of the small theatre, showing him the auditorium, the props room, the men's dressing room, and her father's office. When she was satisfied that Erik knew the location of these places, she took him to the dorms.

"This is your room," she said, tugging him along behind her. "See? It's right at the end of the hall, so you won't have any trouble finding it. Go inside! Look around!"

Erik entered the room and began acquainting himself. Bed,night table, wardrobe, mirror (little use he had for it), and a small desk.

"Isn't it nice?" Amarie gushed.

"Mm-hm…" Erik grunted.

"Come on!" she said, grabbing his hand. "My Papa will want to see you now. About your contract!" Amarie pulled Erik back up to the offices again. "Papa! Papa! Monsieur Erik is here!" She shoved Erik into the small office and sat him down on a hard, wooden chair across from Lachappelle's desk.

"Thank you, Amie," Lachappelle said. Erik heard a bit of a squeak from Lachappelle's chair as he sat down at the desk. "Monsieur Giry, I've finished writing up your contract. I even had my secretary do up a copy for you in Braille, so you can read it yourself. If you have any questions, now is the time to ask them."

Erik took the copy of his contract and ran his fingers along the lines, reading it. Anyone watching would have thought that Erik had been reading in Braille his whole life, with the speed at which he read.

"You say your secretary made this copy?" Erik asked, absent-mindedly.

"Yes. Apparently her sister is blind, and she had the means with which to write in Braille."

"You may wish to inform her then that this document has several spelling and grammatical errors." Erik continued reading. The terms of the contract were rather basic. He had plenty of liberties, his living expenses were paid for as long as he resided in the dorms…

"Twenty-five franks a week? My, that is rather small…"

"This theatre is rather small!" Lachappelle scoffed. "Sorry, Monsieur, but our actors do not enjoy the salaries of those who perform for the Opera Populaire of Paris. We have small audiences and large expenses. Twenty-five a week is the best you'll get!"

Erik set the paper down. So he had signed on with a failing theatre? Great. Just _great_. If only he could still compose! Erik knew that, if he just could, he could create an opera for this modest little theatre that would have the seats filled up for weeks!

"Do you have any questions?" Lachappelle asked, shaking Erik from his reverie.

"No… no, this document seems quite clear…"

"Good. Then I'll have you sign here…" Lachappelle put a pen in Erik's hand and led it to the dotted line at the bottom of the contract. Erik signed it mechanically, still possessed by this previous thoughts. Lachappelle glanced down at the signature and up at Erik again. "O.G?"

"What?"

"You signed, 'O.G.' Those aren't your initials."

Erik almost gasped, realizing that he had just signed his name as the Opera Ghost!

"Uh… O.G. is, uh… Well, the 'G' is my last name, Giry, obviously, and, uh…The 'O' represents my _middle_ name, you see… My middle name is, uh… O'Reilly. Yes. Erik O'Reilly Giry. My, uh… wartime friends used to call me by my middle name… that's why I use it in my signature…"

"_Lame explanation_,_ Erik_," he thought to himself. "_Very lame_."

But Lachappelle seemed to buy it. "A Scandinavian first name, an Irish middle name, and a French last name?"

"Yes… that is correct."

"Where did you say you were from again?"

Erik sighed. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.

XxXxX

Erik knew it must be getting late. He had spent the remainder of his day trying to acquaint himself with the theatre and the stage, while at the same time avoiding Amarie. Erik was tired. He needed to sleep. Wearily, he trudged down the hallways of the dorms, heading towards his room.

Halfway down the hall, Erik stopped. He thought he heard footsteps behind him. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Erik was sure he could hear someone breathing.

Then a hand grabbed Erik by the arm…

XxXxX

**OH NOOOOOOOO! What tragedy will befall our beloved Erik now? I guess you'll have to check in tomorrow and find out**.


	9. Encounter in the Darkness

**Well... I left you all with a bit of a cliff-hanger last time. I think you'll all find this chapter rather interesting...**

**Oh, by the way, it's my birthday today! I'm 18! And I got the Phantom of the Opera on DVD from my brother! Sweeeeeet! But if you'd like to send me a birthday present, click the little button-thingy at the bottom of the page and review!**

**So here's the new chapter! Enjoy!**

XxXxX

Erik spun around, tearing his arm from the assailant's grasp and raising his cane, ready to defend himself.

"Monsieur Erik! Stop!"

"Amarie?" Erik heard the girl whimpering before him. He lowered his cane. "Amarie Lachappelle! What are you doing up so late? And why are you lurking about these halls? Honestly, you shouldn't be sneaking up on people! I could have hurt you!"

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Erik stammered. "I – I… I never said I was scared!"

Amarie sighed heavily. "I wanted to get a drink of water… But…"

"What is it?" Erik asked, rather impatiently.

Amarie tugged on his cloak and, sighing, he bent down to her level. "It's dark out here…" she whispered into his ear.

"What?" Erik said, knotting his brows in confusion. "So?"

"Sooooo…" Amarie sounded embarrassed. "Please don't think me silly, but… I'm afraid of the dark." She paused. "I saw you out here and I… I thought it wouldn't be so scary if I was with you."

Erik sighed. "Darkness isn't that scary. It's actually quite… comforting."

"Why?"

Erik grumbled to himself, not really wanting to share his life's story with this child. "In the darkness, no one can find you. Amarie, have you ever felt alone? Have you ever felt that everyone was against you? That no one loved you? That no one even cared?"

"All the time…" she whispered.

Erik was surprised by this side of Amarie that he had never seen before… beneath the annoyingly-bubbly, squealing, arm-squeezing, hand-grasping little girl, there was a lonely young woman who had no real friends… just like him… "Darkness is your shelter," he told her. "In the light, there is pain, disappointment, rejection… Darkness brings peace."

Amarie was silent. Exhaling, Erik held out his arm to her. She slipped her small hand around his large, firm bicep.

"Come. I'll take you back to your room."

The halls were eerily quiet, with only the sound of Erik's cane tapping and Amarie's tiny footsteps. It was too quiet. And Erik found it rather annoying…

He began to sing. "_Slowly_,_ gently_,_ night unfurls its splendour_._ Grasp it_._ Sense it_._ Tremulous and tender_._ Turn your face away from the garish light of day_._ Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light and listen to the Music of the Night_."

"You really do sing beautifully," Amarie commented as they reached her room. Erik opened the door for her. Then, much to her surprise, he came in with her. Amarie laid down on her bed, and Erik pulled the covers up around her chin.

"_Floating_,_ falling_,_ sweet intoxication_._ Touch me_,_ trust me_,_ savour each sensation_._ Let the dream begin_._ Let your darker side give in to the power which you know you cannot fight_._ The power of the Music of the Night_."

Erik paused. He heard Amarie's deep and steady breathing before him. She had drifted to sleep… Erik smiled. Perhaps living here wouldn't be so terrible. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and headed back to his own room down the hall.

"_You alone can make my song take flight_…_ Help me make the Music of the Night_…"

XxXxX

**Short but sweet? Hey... I said Amarie might get less annoying. Maybe Erik has just found a new friend! Anybody else sense a plot twist?**


	10. Really Bad News

**I'm baaaaaack!**

**Muhahaha!**

**I'm glad the last chapter went over well, although a few of you seem paranoid that I'm going to pair off Erik with Amarie.**

**Whoa! She's fourteen and he's thirty-something? I don't see it happening really, but he could grow to love her like... a daughter maybe?**

**But I'm not done writing the last couple of chapters... So don't give me any bad ideas, you guys!**

**However, do please review.**

**Here's the chapter... Enjoy!**

XxXxX

A few weeks later, Madame Giry entered the auditorium of _La Soleil Rouge_, where her ears were greeted with the dancing, yet somewhat haunting, melody of _Für_ _Elise_. She made her way over to the orchestra pit, where she found Erik sitting at the concert grand piano, his eyebrows furrowed in furious concentration.

His hands glided over the ivory keys, seemingly effortlessly… Then Erik stumbled over the trills… Backing up a few measures, he tried again. Still wrong. He tried several times, but Erik simply could not manoeuvre his hands the way he used to. With a frustrated cry, Erik slammed the cover of the piano shut.

"That was amazing, considering…" Madame Giry commented.

"Madame Giry? What brings you here, to the sphincter of the universe?"

"What? You said in your letter that you were pleased with your new position!"

"That was _before_ we began rehearsals!"

"What's wrong?"

"Madame Giry! I have not seen such a blundering lot of hopeless fools! Honestly, they make me miss Carlotta! No wonder this theatre is failing!"

"Let me guess… he cast you in the smallest role…"

Erik turned away. "Supporting role, actually…"

"That's very good, Erik! That's nothing to sneeze at! What is the name of the play?"

Erik was silent for a moment. "Well, it seems this theatre buys its operas from… from the Opera Populaire… You know, old performances and… and flops… it's cheaper that way…"

"And?"

"And… it seems the newest opera is… _Don Juan Triumphant_."

"_Your_ opera!"

"I have been cast as Passarino… Monsieur Lachappelle heard about the scandal that went down the night _Don Juan_ opened at the Opera Populaire… he thinks it will make this opera more… sensational… Draw in larger audiences… including some patrons from Paris…"

"But Erik… if somebody recognizes you…"

"I know, Madame! I understand… this is my dilemma! I want to prove to Christine that I can do this, but… but if I am discovered, I fear I shall lose more than merely my sight this time…"

"Perhaps you shouldn't…"

Erik sighed. "This is my chance, Madame. This really _is_ the point of no return. I can't run from that past. I'll never escape it. It's useless… Part of me will always be the Phantom of the Opera. It's a shadow that will always follow Erik O'Reilly Giry… I have done terrible things… More than you know… It appears that I will continue to pay for my crimes."

"Erik… I know you will succeed… Someday, if you put your mind to it… Things will get better. Believe in yourself. Christine does…"

"Christine… is she with you?"

"Erik… Christine left Paris… last week…"

"What!"

"She wishes to marry Raoul without delay. The wedding is this Saturday…"

Erik slumped. "I… I thought… I had hoped…"

"Erik…" Madame Giry said gently. "It's time for you to learn what it means to be a man… It's about learning how to love and learning how to lose… Christine has her whole life ahead of her… so do you…" She reached out and took his hand. "Come… Let's go to lunch…"

XxXxX

When Erik and Madame Giry had left, Amarie came out from her hiding place behind a large drum in the orchestra pit. She had heard the whole conversation between Erik and Madame Giry…

Erik… the Phantom of the Opera?

Everything he had told her was a lie. Amarie had heard about the masked maniac who terrorized the Opera Populaire in Paris… Gentle and kind Erik had ruled the stage with an iron fist as the feared Opera Ghost… _Don Juan Triumphant_ was _his_ creation…

Erik… the musical genius… the mighty and powerful Phantom… He controlled and commanded everything in the Opera House…

His mask… his initials… O.G… How stupid she was for not having seen it before! His hands… there was so much blood on his hands… so many innocent people had died at those hands… She had _held_ those hands!

Erik… terrorist… lunatic… madman…

Murderer…

Amarie ran to her room in tears. How could someone like Erik be a killer? Oh, he liked to appear to others as a hard, serious man with a cold heart… But in quiet times alone with him, Amarie saw a dear, sweet man, so unsure of himself… But that was a lie! A mask all in itself! He was a killer!

Amarie flung herself onto her bed and sobbed. How cruel fate was, that the only person in the world who was really a friend at all to her would turn out to be a murderer!

Amarie's sobs subsided and she found herself faced with a choice now. Her first impulse was to run to her father and tell him what a terrible monster Erik was, and have him thrown in jail, executed, or worse…

But then… Amarie thought of that conversation they had had in the halls of the dormitory… "_Amarie_, _have you ever felt alone_? _Have you ever felt that everyone was against you_? _That no one loved you_? _That no one even cared_?"

Amarie wiped a tear away. Erik had done terrible things, she knew that. But did that make him a bad person? She knew that, deep down, Erik was just like her. Afraid and alone in this big world. He was the only one who understood her… the only one who knew _exactly_ how she felt. And yet, anger built itself up in Amarie's heart. "_Friends don_'_t lie to each other_…_ Friends don_'_t pretend to be something they_'_re not_!"

"Very well, Monsieur Erik," Amarie whispered. "I shall keep your secret. But I will never trust you again!"

XxXxX

**Amarie's not happy! I think you'll all find tomorrow's chapter very interesting. Just remember to review!**


	11. A New Don Juan

**Hey, hey, hey! Here's a new chapter. Should prove to be interesting...**

XxXxX

Erik was melancholy at the rehearsal the next day. No one noticed, or cared, as usual. He delivered his lines mechanically, his thoughts possessed bywhat Madame Giry had told him the day before. Yet his voice soundedso passionate... No one could have guessed what exactly he was thinking as he sang his life's work for Monsieur Lachappelle.

"_Your young guest believes I_'_m you_ – _I_, _the master_, _you_, _the man_…"

"Very good, Monsieur," Lachappelle said. "Now Miguel… Blast it! Where is that man!"

"He quit!" someone from the chorus shouted.

"What! But he's our Don Juan! Opening night is a month from now!"

"_Thank Heavens_," Erik thought to himself. "_The man couldn_'_t be more tone_-_deaf_!"

"This is terrible!" Lachappelle raged. "We need a new Don Juan! We can't have the _opera_ without Don Juan! It's bloody _named_ for him for goodness' sake!"

Amarie, who happened to have the role of Aminta, sat on the edge of the stage. "You could always cancel, Papa…"

"No. No! That's completely out of the question! This theatre needs the money!"

"What about Monsieur Erik?" another chorus member suggested. "His voice is strong."

Erik froze where he stood. Although he could not see, he could _feel_ all eyes fixed upon him.

"Uh…" Erik gulped. "Monsieur, I don't think that is wise…"

"No, wait!" Lachappelle jumped up. "It just might work!"

"Monsieur… really…"

"Oh, come now!" Lachappelle clapped his hands together. "Don't tell me you are nervous because you are blind? You can pull this off, Monsieur! I know you can!"

That wasn't the real reason why Erik wanted to decline this role. No… Erik was more worried about the attention that would be drawn to him… the blind star. There were more rumours of noblemen and counts from Paris who were eagerly awaiting the opening night of _Don Juan_ at _La Soleil Rouge_. What if someone recognized him?

"Come now!" Lachappelle said, taking Erik by the arm and leading him to centre-stage. "We'll start from _Point of No Return_. Amarie! Come here!"

Amarie obediently came to her father's side. "Yes, Papa?"

"We'll start from your line… '_You have brought me_…' Erik? Don't be shy! Put your arms around her!"

Erik sighed and slowly put one arm around Amarie's waist, pulling her up against him. The other hand crawled up to her neck. He felt Amarie stiffen against him. Odd. She was normally very… relaxed.This was very out of character for her. He wondered what was wrong?

Perhaps singing for the first time with a new partner was bringing out a little stage fright...

Amarie began to sing. Erik observed that, other than himself, she seemed to be the only person in the theatre with any notable talent.

"_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry_, _to that moment where speech disappears into silence_… _silence_… _I have come here_, _hardly knowing the reason why_… _In my mind_, _I_'_ve already imagined our bodies_…" Amarie seemed to be choking on the words. Erik notice she was shuddering in his arms. "_I_'_ve already imagined our bodies_… _en_… _entwin_… _our bodies_…"

"Amarie?" Erik whispered. "What is wrong?"

"Amarie!" Lachappelle shouted. "Concentrate, girl!"

Amarie was practically convulsing in Erik's grasp. "I… I… I'm sorry, I can't!" Erik could hear in her voice that she was on the verge of tears.

Lachappelle sighed. "Monsieur Erik? Please take her to my office and practice with her there… don't bring her back until she sings perfectly!"

Amarie struggled from Erik's arms and leapt off the stage ahead of him. Sighing, Erik picked up his cane and made his way after her… He hoped that when they were alone she would tell him what was wrong…

XxXxX

Amarie was waiting for him in the cramped office. He closed the door as he entered and waited expectantly… Waited for her to tell him what was wrong… why she was so upset… why she wasn't herself!

But instead, she addressed him coldly. "Shall we get to it, then?"

"Is there anything you wish to tell me?" There. Erik had left an open door. Surely she would open up to him now.

"No. Let's just get this over with!"

Erik was disappointed, but she had a point. The sooner she mastered the song, the better. Though he remembered that she had no trouble singing it before with Miguel.

Erik stepped behind her and pulled her up against himself as he had on the stage. Amarie grunted. "Must you hold me so close?"

"It's my character," Erik replied, callously. "However, if it makes you uncomfortable–"

"No! Never mind! Let's just do this."

"Fine…" Erik replied. He was getting the impression that, for some reason, Amarie was angry with _him_. He wondered what he had done wrong… "I'll sing a few bars to introduce you," he told her. "_Past the point of no return_, _the final threshold_ – _what warm_, _unspoken secrets will we learn_? _Beyond the point of no return_…"

Amarie sucked in a deep breath. "_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry_, _to that moment where speech disappears into silence_… _silence_… _I have come here_, _hardly knowing the reason why_… _In my mind_, _I_'_ve already imagined our bodies_… _our bodies_… _en_… _en_…"

"That's where you froze last time, Amarie," Erik said. "Just sing it." He pulled her closer to him, hoping it would comfort her. "Relax… Trust me…"

Amarie sighed and continued. "_In my mind_, _I_'_ve already imagined our bodies entwining defenceless and silent_ – _and now I am here with you_. _No second thoughts_… _I_'_ve decided_… _decided_…" she stopped.

"Why are you stopping? You were doing well!"

"Perhaps I have no desire to continue!" Amarie snapped, attempting to free herself from his arms. Erik quickly tightened his grip and pulled her even closer. "Let me go!"

"No!" Erik hissed, making her fall silent. "You have been moody all morning! I'm not letting you go until you tell me what is wrong! I am your friend, Amarie! You can tell me what is wrong!"

"No! No, I can't! I can't trust you! You're not my friend!"

Her words stabbed into Erik's heart like a knife. But he did not loosen his grip on her. "Why do you say such things, Amarie? Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?"

"You've lied to me! I know who you are!"

Erik spun her around to face him, but maintained his close proximity. Amarie trembled as he forced her into a corner, his face inches from hers. His blind eyes stared through her, searching for the secrets that she claimed she knew.

"And just who do you think I am?" His voice was barely a whisper. Menacing. Amarie was very afraid. She had never seen him behave like this before. No wonder the people of Paris feared him so. In his anger, a dark aura of evil surrounded him. She shivered as she looked into his eyes and saw an erupting black cloud of fury growing inside of him. One side of Erik's face was twisted in rage. The other side… an emotionless porcelain mask. Amarie wondered if it was true what they said about the Phantom. Was he really a monster? She longed to know the truth.

"Well? What is it, Amarie?" Erik's threatening growl tore through her. "You seem to think you know so much! Well then, what is it that you know?" He leaned in closer, ominously. Grabbing her shoulders, he pushed her against the wall, pinning her there. His body was mere inches away from hers. She gasped as she felt his warm breath on her face, the heat radiating off of his body. His lip was curled into a sneer. "Tell me, Amarie. Just who am I?"

"You're the Phantom of the Opera!" she shrieked, tearing the mask away from his face. She gasped at what she saw. That side of his face… it was hardly a face at all! The skin was blotchy and red… his cheek sagged downwards… his nose was a rough mess. The skin surrounding his eye was misshapen and horrible. He was missing a lot of hair on that side of his head, and in some areas shecould see his bare skull. His upper lip was twisted into a scowl that only added to the look of rage that graced his face now.

Then anger melted into horror… Amarie ducked past him as Erik desperately tried to cover his face. He sank to the floor.

"Amarie! Why? Why did you do it? Why!" He was crying now. He turned and reached out a hand, looking for her. "Amarie? Please. I'm sorry, I… I didn't want you to see me like this… Please…"

Amarie was crying now, too. She wished she hadn't taken his mask. All of the anger she held against him gave way to pity. No wonder he became such a monster! The way he must have been treated for his appearance… she couldn't even begin to comprehend the torment he had been put through. Reaching out, she took his outstretched hand… "Erik, I'm sorry…"

"How did you find out?" he whispered.

"I… I heard you talking to Madame Giry yesterday… I didn't mean to listen in, but… I heard you talk about… your past…"

"Amarie…" Erik pulled her close and wrapped her in a warm embrace. "I did terrible things… it's true what they said about me in the papers. All of it. I was a monster. But, Amarie… I _was_ a monster. I've changed… I really have! I… I try… I really try…"

Amarie hugged him tightly. Then she handed him his mask. He slowly put it back on.

"Fear not, Erik," Amarie whispered. "I would never, and _will_ never, tell anyone your secret."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Little did young Amarie know the price it would cost to keep that promise.

XxXxX

**Ooo... More foreboding... OK, the good stuff starts up in the next couple of chapters. Keep reading! I might not get to update until late in the afternoon tomorrow, 'cause I've got a Biology exam in the morning and then I've got to take my cat to vet. Check in around evening time... I should have it updated by then.**

**Oh... and thank you Lady of Mirkwood for your kind birthday wishes! Are you glad Amarie doesn't hate Erik anymore?**


	12. The Invitation

**Nice! Got lot's of reviews and feedbacks on that last chapter... Thank you all! New chapter...**

XxXxX

Erik woke the next morning and stretched his weary muscles. After the blowout he had had with Amarie the day before, rehearsal went mercifully well. He even gave her a few pointers, so that she sang her part almost as well as Christine had.

Christine… her wedding was in three days… and Amarie… Erik wasn't sure how he felt about her yet. The child was obviously too young for him. But… she was his best friend. Through all the frustration of having to go to rehearsal and listen to those hapless fools butcher _his_ opera, of having to pretend to be someone he wasn't, of having to hide and lie about himself, Amarie was…just _there_. And she cared. She was a little ray of light in his gloom. He had been afraid that that was all over when she had unceremoniously unmasked him. But she promised not to tell… She promised…

Rehearsal that morning was going well, except Erik was sick of the way Lachappelle verbally abused his daughter.

"Amarie! You're flat! Get with the program!"

Amarie sighed sadly as she leaned against Erik. "_Past the point of no return_, _the final threshold_ – _the bridge is crossed_, _so stand and watch it burn_… _We_'_ve passed the point of no return_…"

"Erik!" Lachappelle said. "Be a little more intimate with her, would you? You're a hardly-convincing seducer!"

Erik raised his head. "Monsieur…?"

"You heard me! Get touchy! Feel her up a little!"

Erik was shocked. How could this man ask him to do such a thing! To his own daughter, nonetheless!

"Monsieur, I must protest!"

"That's not your job!"

"I will not do such a thing without Amarie's consent!"

Lachappelle looked at his daughter. "Well? Give it to him!"

Amarie trembled. "Please, Papa… I don't want to… Don't make him…"

"I'm your father! You'll do what I tell you!"

"She said no!" Erik bellowed.

There was silence. Erik heard Lachappelle's footsteps making his way over to them. Instinctively, Erik put himself between Amarie and her father. Lachappelle stopped inches away from Erik.

"You insolent wretch!" Lachappelle tried to reach past Erik to grab Amarie. Erik knew what was coming and caught Lachappelle by the wrist, twisting his arm painfully behind his back.

"You had best learn proper manners, Monsieur," Erik informed him, applying more pressure to Lachappelle's twisted arm, making him cry out. "And do you dare discharge me, knowing I'm the only one who can sing your opera?" Lachappelle's answer was demonstrated simply by his inability to form any kind of response. "I will perform my part to the best of my ability _without_ violating your daughter's comfort or stepping beyond the boundaries of propriety." He released Lachappelle, who fell to the floor, cradling his sore arm. "Come Amarie," Erik said, taking her hand. "Rehearsal is over…"

XxXxX

"Thank you for sticking up for me, Erik," Amarie said as they left the auditorium.

"Has your father always treated you so horribly?"

"He didn't used to… Not before Mama died… Since then, I've just been another mindless peon to him."

"What was he like before?"

"A lot like you, actually."

"Like me?"

"You know… cold and grumpy on the outside, but warm and sweet on the inside…"

Erik smiled slightly. Then the smile fell off of his face as he considered what she said. "You really think I'm grumpy?"

Amarie laughed. "You just pretend to be!" She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. Then he felt her muscles tense, and she pulled away from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's a man coming over here… I don't recognize him… he doesn't belong to the theatre…"

"What does he look like?"

"Well, he's blonde… he has a ponytail… he looks like a gentleman."

"_Oh_,_ no_…" Erik thought. "_It can_'_t be_…"

"That was quite the display, Monsieur Giry," an all-too-familiar voice stated. "How very noble of you to defend this young lady…"

Erik turned to the voice. "Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagney… what a _pleasant_ surprise," he replied acidly.

Raoul managed a stiff smile. Amarie, upon hearing Raoul's title, curtsied deeply. "My lord…"

"Amarie," Erik said. "Why don't you head off to your room and get changed? I shall take you to lunch later."

Amarie complied and, stopping only to curtsey before Raoul once more, raced off to the dormitory. Raoul watched her go.

"Darling child," he commented.

"She is a dear soul," Erik said.

Raoul looked at Erik quizzically. Odd it was, seeing a sweet child like Amarie spending her time with the likes of Erik. Yet, somehow they seemed like a good match. Her childish innocence and perky personality softened Erik's rough exterior. Yet at the same time, Erik's own dark, imposing figure somehow matured her.

"How are things working out for you, Monsieur?" Raoul asked.

"I am adjusting," Erik replied. "But somehow I suspect you are not here just to check up on me and catch me putting my employer in his place."

Raoul feigned shock. "You wound me, Monsieur! Can a man not simply go a little ways off the beaten path just to see how his old rival is doing?"

Erik laughed. "I may be blind, Monsieur, but I am not stupid."

"Yes, indeed," Raoul said, assuming a more serious tone. "I am here on Christine's behalf."

"Is she alright?"

"Oh, yes. She is quite well. But… well… I shall be blunt, Monsieur. She wants you at our wedding."

If Erik still had his sight, he would have been staring bug-eyed at the Vicomte. "Excuse me?"

"Don't ask me why… She did not really explain herself fully. But she wants you there. Christine may not love you as she loves me, but I know she still cares about you. I suppose that is why she… well… she wants you to…"

"What is it?" Erik prodded.

Raoul inhaled deeply. "She wants you to give her away."

Erik felt as if he had been punched in the gut. He leaned heavily on his cane to prevent his knees from giving out. How could this be possible!

"She asked me to come and tell you, and sincerely hopes that you will agree. Do you, Monsieur?"

"_No_!" Erik thought. "_No_,_ certainly not_!_ I love her_!_ I cannot simply give her away_,_ as if I felt nothing_…_ as if I had no hope_!_ I cannot_…_ I cannot_… _I cannot_…"

"I'd be honoured, Monsieur," Erik said. And then his heart sank like a stone.

"Good," Raoul said. "Christine will be most pleased. We leave tonight."

XxXxX

**Alrighty... I'm expecting lots of hate-mail from all the E/C shippers out there. Oh, well... I know some of you may think it's kind of weird that Christine wants Erik to give her away, but in the last chapter with Christine, she and Erik were still friends and I kind of figured that Christine probably sees Erik as a father-image anyway. So... Check in tomorrow, and you'll see what goes down.**

**P.S. Erik kicked Lachappelle's butt! **(_**hits him**_)** Go Erik! **(**_kicks him while he's down_**) **Wahoo! **(**_starts beating him with his cane_**)** Alright! Hit him again!**

**Please review!**


	13. Danger in the Darkness

**Hi! Thank you all for the reviews! I got a lot of good feedback, and I appreciate you guys not tearing me down for what happened in the last chapter. Just let it be known that I am also an E/C shipper, so I feel your pain... That doesn't stop me from making Erik's life horrible, though...**

**Muhahahaha!**

**Anyhoo... the good stuff has officially begun! Enjoy!**

XxXxX

"Erik, must you go?" Amarie whined as she flopped onto Erik's bed. Erik was busy packing a few things for his trip.

"I told you, Amie, I'm going to a friend's wedding. I'll only be gone a few days."

Amarie sighed as she fingered the quilt on the bed. "I'll be lonely without you here."

Erik sat down beside her and ran his fingers through her hair. "It will not be long. I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"But, Erik!" Amarie protested. "What if something happens and you never come back?"

Erik sighed. Amarie was experiencing some extreme separation anxiety. Erik's fingers strayed to the ring he had on a chain around his neck. It was the ring he was going to give to Christine… when _he_ married her. It really didn't look like that was a possible future anymore. Slowly, Erik removed the ring, chain and all, from around his neck. He held it out to Amarie.

"Here," he said. "You hang onto this. Just until I return. That way you know I'll be coming back… I'll come back to get this from you when I'm ready…"

Amarie hung the gold chain around her neck. "Don't worry, Erik. I'll keep it safe."

Erik gave her a shoulder-hug, then stood up with his small bag of clothes and started for the doorway.

"I'll see you in a few days," Erik called over his shoulder. Then he was gone from her sight.

XxXxX

Raoul waited for Erik in a carriage outside the theatre. When he saw Erik's dark figure appear in the doorway, he jumped down from the carriage and made his way over to him.

"Are you ready?" Raoul asked.

Erik nodded slightly. Raoul eyed the canvas bag slung over Erik's shoulder.

"Are you sure that's all you're going to need?"

"I am a man of few needs," Erik replied bluntly.

Raoul shrugged and took the bag from him, putting it into the back of the carriage. Raoul turned and looked at Erik. The poor man. He looked like he was about to go to his best friend's funeral. He just looked so miserable.

"_Can you blame him_?" a voice in the back of Raoul's mind whispered. "_Wouldn_'_t you be miserable if you lost a girl like Christine_?" Raoul sighed. He couldn't even imagine the depths of Erik's sorrow. If only the world had shown more kindness to the poor wretch…

"Have you eaten recently?" Raoul asked.

Erik responded by shaking his head.

"We have a long journey ahead of us. Why don't you and I have some supper first? Surely you would known of any good restaurants in this part of town?"

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Well, there is a nice little place just down the street…"

XxXxX

Supper was pleasant enough, Erik supposed. The food was palatable. Raoul and Erik even managed to have a civilized conversation, although Erik did not really care much about what Raoul had to say about government leaders or Queen Victoria. Erik had never really had much interest in politics. Likewise, Raoul failed to appreciate the finer points of Swedish music or anything about Beethoven's childhood. Oh well. Raoul had been kind enough to avoid areas of sensitive subject matter, A.K.A. Christine. The man had every right to gloat, but he didn't take advantage of it.

"_Well_," Erik thought. "_At least he is kind enough not to twist the knife any further_."

At the conclusion of dinner, Raoul and Erik began to walk the few blocks back to the theatre where the carriage was still waiting. Unfortunately, Raoul began talking about politics again, and Erik's brain simply could take no more of it. Could the man be more _boring_? So, just to make things interesting, Erik decided to change the subject completely.

"So, Vicomte, what is it about Christine that has you so entranced?" he asked casually, as though he were asking Raoul what he thought of the weather, or something of the like.

Raoul stumbled over his words. "Uh… well, er… uh…"

"In all seriousness, what is it about her that makes you love her so? I mean, surely a childhood summer spent together does not mean so much that one would risk one's life to get the girl back? I could have killed you, you know."

"Yes," Raoul muttered. "That did dawn on me when you had a rope around my neck."

"So… was it worth it? Is _she_ worth it? Really, why did she catch your eye? Was it because I taught her how to sing so well? Is it because she is beautiful? When you look at that vulnerable frame, do you simply wish to take her and have her and-"

"Erik!" Raoul interrupted him."Please, can we talk about something else?"

"Tell me… Why are you so obsessed with her?"

"Why are _you_ so obsessed with her?" Raoul shot back.

Erik remained unshaken. "A man in my position does not usually have that many women to choose from."

Raoul shook his head. "I love her. I told you before… When I was at your mercy in your lair, and you could have ended my life with a simple tug on that rope, what did I do? Did I cry and beg for mercy? No! I told you that I loved her, and that I was willing to die if she could go free. It matters not to me what Christine looks like, or the size of her talent. I love her for what she is! Can you say the same?"

For once in his life, Erik was rendered speechless. "Christine is the only woman who ever showed me any kindness," he said finally. "Good God! If someone, for the first time in your life, treated you like a man and not a monster, wouldn't you love her as well?"

Raoul sighed heavily. "I promise you… this is my solemn vow… I will take care of her."

"That will be a comforting thought on a cold evening…"

"Must you be so _difficult_?"

"I told you I'd come to this wedding of yours and… give _her_ away… Now honestly, if I were trying to be difficult, would I agree to such a request?"

"I understand you must be sorrowful. In fact, were I in your position, I'd very dearly like to end my life should the only woman I ever loved leave me for another man! Believe me, Erik, I understand! You let her go! I can't _help_ but admire you for that!"

For the second time that night, Erik was speechless. "You… you _admire_ me?"

"You are twice the man of any of the noblemen I have ever been associated with!"

Erik was certain he must be dreaming. Surely this wasn't… no, this _was_ indeed a complement coming from the very lips of the Vicomte de Chagney himself! Somehow, Erik's jealousy and hatred for this man evaporated and gave way to… well, a certain admiration. Christine, he knew, would be safe with this man. He would take care of her and give her everything she could ever want. It pained Erik that he could not offer Christine the same, but perhaps that was for the best. No demon deserved an angel…

But he wasn't a demon anymore, was he? No. He was a man. A man who had finally buried the hatchet with his old rival.

"I… Vicomte, I don't know what to say…"

"For once, nor do I!" Raoul laughed.

Erik paused. "You're not going to hug me, are you?" he asked.

"Uh… no, I... believe this is where we share a… _friendly_ handshake…"

Erik slowlyput out a hand and feltthe Vicomte grasp it, giving it a firm shake… perhaps this wedding would turn out to be a joyous affair after all...

Then Erik froze as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He tensed up, not moving at all, his ears open and listening. Something wasn't right…

"Erik? What's the matter?"

"Shhh…" Erik held a finger to his lips. "Something's wrong…"

"What is it?"

"Something isn't right…"

"Erik, are you playing a trick on me? Because if you are…"

"Shut up!" Erik snapped. "There's something-"

Erik's heart rate doubled as he felt the cold barrel of a pistol jab against the back of his neck. Someone grabbed him roughly from behind.

"Hand over the money, or I'll blow his head off!" a rough voice threatened.

"Please, Monsieur," Raoul was forcing calm into his voice. "Don't harm him. Here… this is everything I have…" Erik felt the mugger reach past him to take the money from Raoul. Erik took the opportunity to turn his head and sink his teeth into the man's arm.

The mugger screamed and Erik threw his elbow into the man's stomach, knocking the air out of him. Erik turned and kicked the man in the knees, forcing him to the ground.

"Only a coward attacks a blind man!" Erik spat, giving him a sharp kick to the ribs.

"You fools! Get out here!" the mugger screamed. Erik broke into a cold sweat when he heard multiple footsteps advancing towards them across the pavement. The man had backup.

"A smart thief?" Erik muttered to himself. "Who would have guessed?" Then there was the ominous click of a pistol cocking.

"Erik, get down!" Raoul screamed, tackling Erik to the pavement. There was a gunshot, and Raoul let out painful cry.

"You fool! Look what you've done!" one of the men bellowed. "You were just supposed to get the money from him!"

"What was I supposed to do? The wretch bit me!"

"We've gotta get out of here!"

"What about the other one?"

"Never mind him! He's a blind wretch anyway! Get going! Get going!"

There was the sound of the thieves' retreating footsteps. Then all was silent.

"Vicomte?" Erik spoke to the heavy mass on top of him. "Vicomte? Are you alright?"

Raoul did not answer.

"Vicomte?" Erik reached up to touch him. He drew his hand back quickly when his hands touched something wet and sticky on Raoul's chest. He lifted it to his face and smelt the bitter-coppery smell of blood.

"Vicomte! You are hurt! Vicomte!" Erik struggled out from beneath Raoul's limp body, taking the wounded man into his arms. "Vicomte! Raoul? Please! Please, don't! She needs you! Christine _needs_ you!"

Raoul moaned slightly. "Er-Erik…?"

"Raoul? You will be fine! I will get help! Please!" Erik raised his head to the night sky. "HELP ME!" he screamed. "PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP!"

"Erik…" Raoul gasped. "T-take… care of… Christine…"

XxXxX

**Betcha didn't see that one comin' did you? I know I didn't update yesterday, so I'll update again later today to make up for yesterday, alrighty?**

**Don't you just love how the blind guy beats everyone up?**


	14. Angel in Disguise

**Hey! Didn't I say I'd update again today? I guess it's a good thing, the ending of the last chapter kind of sucked. This chapter's a little short, but I think it's neat! Check it out!**

XxXxX

Christine burst through the doors of the hospital. "Raoul! Raoul!"

Madame Giry, Meg, Philippe, and Amarie were already sitting in the waiting room. Meg rushed to her friend and hugged her. Christine looked at the others. Madame Giry looked grave; Philippe sat with his face buried in his hands; Amarie nervously picked at the hem of her dress…

Finally, a doctor came into room. "I suppose you are all here for Messieurs de Chagney and Giry?" he asked.

Christine stepped forward. "Is Erik alright?" she asked, forcing calm into her voice.

"The man insisted that he needed no medical attention when he was brought here by an old farmer and his wife. However, upon further inspection we found that he had twisted his ankle rather badly, probably when he fell. Other than that, he is just fine."

"And… my fiancé?"

The doctor looked at the floor. "I'm sorry…"

Christine's knees gave out and she fell to the floor, sobbing. Meg knelt by her friend and rubbed her shoulders sympathetically, but Christine could not be comforted.

"No! No! Raoul!" she wailed.

"Christine!"

Christine raised her head in time to see Erik hobble into the room, leaning heavily on his cane. He reached out a hand, looking for her.

"Christine? Where are you?"

Christine stood up and slowly walked over to where Erik stood. Her cries had stopped. She looked completely passive. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, staring at him.

"Christine…"

Christine drew back her hand and slapped him hard across his unmasked cheek. "You! How could you let this happen? How could you?"

"Christine, I–"

She beat her fists against his chest. "Is this what you wanted, you monster? Now you can have me all to yourself!"

Erik tried desperately to grab her wrists. "Christine! That's not what I wanted!"

"I HATE YOU!" Philippe, Madame Giry, and Meg did their best to subdue Christine. They pulled her away from Erik kicking and screaming until she fell, a crumpled mess, to the floor again, screaming and crying in anguish.

Erik felt tears pricking at his own eyes. He turned out of the room and limped away. His presence would only upset Christine. Alone again, he stopped only to ask a passing nurse to direct him to an alternate exit. After she gave him the directions, he made his way out of the building as quickly as he could go, into the cool air. He felt warmth on his cheek, still sore from where Christine had slapped him. The sun was rising, he knew. It had been a long night.

Suddenly, he felt a small hand tugging on his cloak. "Amarie? Is that you?"

"It's me, Erik." She took his hand and led him over to a wooden bench, where she helped him sit. "Do you want to talk, Erik?"

"Not particularly…"

"I'm your friend, Erik. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

Erik sighed. "I know that, Amie, but there are some things I think you are too young to know."

"I am _not_ a little girl!" Amarie said indignantly. "I know a lot of things! You'd be surprised! For instance, I know just how it feels to lose someone you're close to."

"The Vicomte and I were hardly close…"

"If that is true, then why do you look so upset?"

"Because… because of Christine… She is in so much pain… and she thinks it's my fault!"

"Erik, it's not your fault…"

"Yes, Amarie, it _is_ my fault! If I had just been still! If I had not attacked that man! If I hadn't… if I hadn't tried to be a hero, all the Vicomte would have lost is few sous. But now he's dead, and it's because of me! It's my fault!"

Tears were flowing freely from Erik now. He put his face in his hands and cried. Amarie put one arm around his shoulders, while letting her other hand reach up and pat his back comfortingly. They sat like that for a long time, until Erik had used up his supply of tears. Then Amarie took his hand and began to lead him back to the theatre.

"Everything will be alright, Erik," Amarie told him. "Just you wait and see. I promise everything will be alright."

Amarie comforted him the way his mother should have. The next several days were hard on Erik. He was plagued with recurring nightmares of the moment when the Vicomte died. He wasn't sleeping well, nor was he eating very much. Add the gruelling rehearsal schedule on top of that, and Erik became very sick by the end of the week. Amarie was the only one who stayed by his side and helped him regain his health. She restored a small measure of joy to his world.

AndErik finally came to terms with his true feelings for her…

He loved Amarie.

Not as he loved Christine, of course. No, this was a different sort of love. A love that is shared only between very special friends… a love that accompanies a bond deeper than mere sentiment. Erik was sure that, if he had had a daughter, he would want her to be something like Amarie.

She was, after all, his Angel in Disguise...

XxXxX

**OK, that's it... That's the end of my story...**

**Just kidding! We've still got several chapters to go!**

**Awww... I think **(**_sniff_**)** I really wanna... **(_**sniff**_)** have a good... **(_**sniff**_)** cry! Wah! That's so sad! Christine, in the midst of her grief, blames Erik for Raoul's death and now little Amarie is the only one who will look after the poor man!**

**And shall I make it clear? You know, just in case you didn't catch that last paragraph?**

**I haven't paired Erik with Amarie!**

**It's a fatherly love, sort of thing. I think it's cute, really. An E/OW story in this case would be just too weird, eh? What, with the whole glaring age-difference and all.**

**_My_ Erik is _not_ a pervert!**

**So anyway, review these last two chapters, and I shall make my next update very interesting...**

**Well... I guess I was going to make it interesting regardless...**

**OK, I'm shutting up now...**


	15. A Familiar Mask

**I am SO sorry I haven't updated sooner! Between finishing my exams and home-renovations, I haven't had any time at all to get online. Thank you all who reviewed, I always appreciate your comments. I'm throwing a couple more plot twists into this chapter, so I think you'll all enjoy it!**

XxXxX

Erik listened from a distance the day they buried the Vicomte de Chagney. It should have been his wedding day, and Christine should have been filled with love. But instead, she was filled with grief. Erik could hear her wailing as she clutched the wooden casket. She had to be taken away by attendants. When the mourners had dispersed somewhat, Erik made his way over to the burial site and, undetected,dropped a single red rose by the headstone.

"_There_," Erik thought to himself. "_I have paid my respects_,_ and now I can claim forgiveness_."

But Erik was still wracked with guilt over the incident. Perhaps he hadn't pulled the trigger that released the bullet that killed Raoul, but he still felt responsible. If he hadn't attacked the mugger, none of this would be happening.

For the next few weeks, Erik threw himself into _Don Juan_ rehearsals – waking, rehearsing, eating, rehearsing, sleeping… that was his day. At least Lachappelle knew enough not to cross Erik again. After all, he _was_ the man who would make this opera successful. Erik felt a little healthy fear from his employer would work to his benefit, however, he had to continually remind himself – "_You_'_re the slave_,_ he_'_s the master_…_ you are not the Opera Ghost anymore_… _You **have** to do what he says_…_ within reason_,_ of course_…"

Opening night crept up on Erik. His white mask was replaced with a black one that covered everything above his lips – similar to the one he wore the first time he played Don Juan.

The first time… with Christine… holding her small frame against himself and… oh, why did the Powers That Be insist on tormenting him so? Christine… she hated him. Hated him for letting Raoul die. Never again would he hear kind words from those lips. Just loathing and disgust!

Amarie found him lying on his bed, curled up in the foetal position, shaking his head and muttering to himself. "Erik? Erik, what's wrong?"

"Christine?"

"Erik! It's me!"

He paused. "Amarie?"

"Erik, are you feeling sick again?" She held a hand to his forehead.

"No… no, I… I think I just need some fresh air…"

"I'll come with you… just in case…"

Amarie led him outside the theatre doors, to a wooden bench near the garden, facing the street. After she helped him sit down, she took his hand. "What's troubling you, Erik?"

Erik shook his head, trying to sort out his thoughts. "Nothing… Everything… Christine… the Vicomte… opening night… dear Lord, opening night is only three days away!"

"But you are doing so well! You aren't nervous, are you?"

"No… well, yes, but… You know all those rumours about people coming from Paris?"

"Yes?"

"Well… you know… with my reputation and all… well…"

"You're afraid someone will recognize you as the Phantom of the Opera?"

"…And of what will happen to me if they do."

Amarie shifted closer to him and took both of his hands in hers. "No matter what happens, I'll be there for you... I'll always be watching over you, no matter what happens...I promise…"

XxXxX

"Jolly good night, don't you think, Andre?" Firmin asked as he and his partner strolled down the street. "Nice to get out of old Paris and have a quiet, _peaceful_ walk."

As they continued down the street, _La Soleil Rouge_ came into view. "Why, again, did we decide to come watch this cursed opera?" Andre asked. "Wasn't the first time seeing it bad enough?"

"You must admit," Firmin replied, "though the composer was a few bassoons short of a full orchestra, the music he wrote was rather… catchy…"

Andre stared blankly at his friend.

"What?" Firmin asked him, finally.

"I'm sorry… what was that you were saying about bassoons?"

Firmin rolled his eyes. "It's an _expression_! I was merely saying that the man was off his rocker! Mad! Insane! A homicidal lunatic!"

"Oh…" Andre said, fully understanding now. He shuddered. "Let's speak no more of 'you-know-who.' The man is likely dead anyway, after what we did to him."

"Or crawled back under some rock where he belongs!" Firmin exhaled. "Anyway… as I was saying… Lovely evening! The stars are bright… The river's clear… The air is fresh…" He glanced across the street where a young girl and a man dressed all in black sat on a wooden bench, holding hands. "…Romance is stirring…"

Andre followed Firmin's gaze to the pair across the street, then turned away, smiling. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, the smile gone, and directed his attention to the couple again. He grabbed Firmin's arm.

"Andre? What has gotten into you?"

"Richard… Does that man look familiar to you?"

Firmin looked across the street again, where the black-clad man was beginning to rise from the bench. He was facing the girl, so that only the left side of his face was visible.

"Andre, he's just some old bloke shamelessly flirting with–"

The man turned so that half a white mask came into view. Firmin's hand flew to his mouth to keep himself from screaming.

"_The Opera Ghost_!" Andre exclaimed in a horrified whisper.

The stunned pair watched as Erik held out his arm to Amarie, who smiled graciously and accepted it. Firmin noticed Erik's cane.

"What's he using that for? He's not even leaning on it! Is it some sort of weapon that he uses? The Phantom never had a cane before, did he?"

"He… he looks like he's… using it to… see what's ahead of him!"

"He does have a sort of… blank stare on his face, doesn't he?"

"Richard… I don't think he can see!"

"You mean he's gone…?"

"Blind!"

"Well… I do suppose I hit him rather hard when we were down in that cursed sewer…"

Erik and Amarie disappeared inside the theatre doors, leaving Andre and Firmin gaping.

"This is terrible!" Andre exclaimed. "He's haunting a new theatre!"

"And it seems he has a new pretty little wench to dote upon, as well…"

"What will we do? As long as he lives, no one is safe! He'll kill and kill again!"

"Wait!" Firmin cried. A plot was forming itself in his head. "I know of some men in this city that may be persuaded to do some things of… questionable legality. For a price of course."

"Richard… what are you suggesting?"

"This time, my friend," Firmin said. "This time, we'll be sure that the Phantom of the Opera will fall!"

XxXxX

**Oooh, intriguing, eh? Oh, listen to me and my cute Candian accent. Keep reading, and review!**


	16. A Promise Kept

**Well, it sounds like you've all been enjoying the last few chapters. I'm glad! I know it started out rather slow, but I hopt you're all liking it now!**

**I'm listening to "Point of No Return" while I'm writing this. Honestly, could Gerard Butler's voice be sexier? Especially in those Don Juan pants...**

**Anyways...**

**Oh, by the way... we spell "fetal" as "foetal" in Canada. Don't ask me why. I know it doesn't _sound_ like that. It's just how we spell it. I only bring it up because someone questioned me about it in a review after reading that last chapter. I actually do spell decently! Just not by American standards, I suppose. :D**

**Well then... how about that next chapter, _eh_?**

XxXxX

Amarie walked down the narrow street. It was very dark out, but Amarie wasn't afraid. The dark didn't scare her at all anymore. Erik was right. The darkness was peaceful.

Amarie swung her evening bag in a carefree manner. Tomorrow was opening night, and she had thrived under Erik's instruction. On stage, their voices blended together like hers and Miguel's never would have. The performance was guaranteed to be a success. Nothing could go wrong now.

Suddenly, a rough hand grabbed Amarie around the waist while another clapped over her mouth to keep her from screaming. Amarie was dragged into the shadows and pinned up against a brick wall, where no one could see her. She was faced with three seedy-looking men. They all smiled ugly, rotten smiles at her. Her heart rate sped. Amarie's thoughts went back to a conversation she had had with Erik a few nights after Raoul De Chagney's death. He was very sick and pale, lying in his bed as she watched over him. He had taken her hand and looked at her with a very serious expression on his face. "_If ever you are assaulted on the streets_," he had said, "_do whatever you are told to do_._ Don_'_t resist_._ Nothing is worth more than your life_…"

"Here!" she cried, shoving her evening bag at them. "Take it! It's yours!"

"We don't want your money, my pretty," one of them said, fingering her fiery-red locks. "We have a few questions for you."

"Who's your little friend in the mask?" another asked. Fear clutched at Amarie's heart. She didn't trust these men… and she didn't care what Erik said, she was _not_ going to give into these men and tell them about him!

"Who?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know who! The masked man! Do you know who he is? Do you know _what_ he is? Surely you've heard of the Phantom of the Opera from Paris?"

Amarie shrugged. "Maybe…"

"Your friend is a murderer!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

The first man backhanded her across the face. "You lying whore! You know something!"

Amarie clenched her mouth shut. She wouldn't tell anyone about Erik. She had made a promise…

"Very well," the first man said. "We're not leaving until you tell us what you know…"

XxXxX

Perhaps it had only been hours… Amarie felt like it had been an eternity. The men tried to beat her into submission, but she would not relent. They must have thought they had killed her, because they eventually gave up and left her there.

Amarie struggled painfully to her feet, limping back to the theatre… back to the dorms… back to her room…

She glanced at her image in the mirror. She certainly was a sight. She removed her torn dress and threw it away. It was beyond repair. She slipped into a dressing gown and sat at her dresser, examining her face in the mirror… Split lip, black eye, bruised cheek… Amarie hoped she could conceal these injuries with make-up for the show tomorrow night.

Amarie nearly laughed at herself. Here she was, thinking about the performance and what she looked like, after those men had… had… after what they _did_ to her!

Tears filled Amarie's eyes. She had to go to someone… To the one person who would listen and not be alarmed by her appearance…

XxXxX

Amarie limped to his door and knocked softly.

"Come in, Amarie," he called. She opened the door. Erik was busy arranging things in his room.

"How did you know it was me?" she asked, stepping into his room.

"Who else would be knocking on my door at this time of night?" He paused. "Did you hurt yourself, child?"

"What?"

"Your gait is uneven. Sounds like a limp. Are you hurt?"

"Um…" Amarie sat on the edge of his bed. "I… fell."

"You fell?" he said, plainly.

"Yes. I fell."

Erik sighed and sat beside her. "I don't believe you, Amarie."

"What?"

"You hesitated. You sound distressed. You didn't fall, did you?"

"No… no…" Amarie said in a choked whisper. "I swear… I fell…"

Erik gently took her face into one large hand, allowing his thumb to brush her cheek. As he did so, he felt the wetness of her tears.

"A simple accident has you in such a state?" he said, dubiously. "I can hear the fear and tension in your voice. Don't lie to me, Amarie. You didn't fall."

Amarie did not answer.

"Someone hurt you, didn't they?"

Amarie was shaking her head. "Please… please…"

"_Didn_'_t_ _they_!" His sharp tone made her jump.

"Erik… please…"

"Was it your father?"

Amarie's eyes flew wide with disbelief. "What? No! My father would never hurt me! He may have a hard time showing it, but he loves me!"

"If he loved you so much, why would he try to force you to do something on stage that you _clearly_ did not want to do?" he asked, reminding her of that day at rehearsals, a few weeks earlier.

"Stop it, Erik! Stop it!"

"Why are you defending him?"

Amarie got right up into his face. "And why do you assume that I didn't want you to… touch me… on stage? How do you know that that wasn't _exactly_ what I wanted?"

"Amarie, you told him flat out that you didn't want to!"

"Perhaps I was being immature! Maybe _this_ is what I've wanted all along!" With that, she grabbed his face and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Erik was surprised by the feeling of her warm body pressed up against him,little tongue pushing its way into his mouth andentwining eagerlywith his. Erik momentarily forgot what he was doing and, unable to stop himself,let his hands slide down her back, fingers tracing a line down her spine, and pulled her up to him, deepening the kiss. She tasted so sweet. He felt her tugging at his trousers and, with much effort, broke the embrace and grabbed her hands.

"Amarie… you don't want this… you don't feel that _way_ about me…"

"What does it matter what I _feel_!" She was sobbing uncontrollably. "I'm just a _thing_, aren't I? An object for male pleasure!"

Erik stood up, turning away from her. Amarie instantly regretted the words that had just come out of her mouth. She didn't even want to think about the damage that this statement inflicted. Erik had his back to her. Why wouldn't he face her! He said nothing for a very long time.

Finally he spoke. "Amarie… why did I taste blood on your lips?"

Amarie raised her hand to her lips… her split lip! It was still bleeding!

"Oh… Erik…"

She could see his whole body going rigid. His hands were clenched into tight fists. She wished he would turn to her, so she could see the expression on his face… perhaps understand what he was thinking…

"Where… where _else_ are you hurt?"

"I… I have a black eye… and my cheek is bruised…"

"But… there's _more_, isn't there, Amarie?" He finally turned to her, and she gasped. Erik was fighting to keep his face from twisting in rage, but his green eyes betrayed a murderous flare, heavily laced with hatred. "You called yourself a _thing_. What happened that made you believe that? What makes you think you're so unworthy of love?"

Amarie rushed forward, threw her arms around his waist, buried her face into his chest and sobbed. He gently put his arms around her, holding her while the sobs wracked her little body. "Shh…" he whispered, stroking her back. "It's alright. I'm here."

"Erik," she cried into his chest. "Th-th-th-they… they…"

"They took you…" Erik finished for her, turning from her once again. He turned and faced the wall. In a sudden, violent rage, he slammed both fists against it, screaming a mixture of anger, pain, grief, and guilt. Amarie put a hand on his shoulder. His shoulder was so tense. His whole body was tense!

He spun on her, grabbing her wrist. "Who did this to you? Who!"

"I-I-I-I… I d-don't know who th-they were!"

Erik's breathing was coming out in quick gasps. "How… how many?"

"Three…"

Erik shook his head and groaned sadly. He reached out with both hands, taking her face and pulling it against his chest. "My little angel…" he murmured into her ear. "My little angel…" He stood there cradling her against himself for a long time.

"Erik," she said, finally. "They… they were looking for _you_."

"Me?"

"They wanted me to tell them everything I knew about you."

Erik pulled away from her. "How much did you tell them?"

"N-nothing, Erik."

"Y-you didn't? Amarie! What did I tell you? You shouldn't have resisted! Do you know what could have happened!"

"Yes… I could have told them about you, I _might_ have escaped with my dignity, but I would have left you with a broken promise…"

She put her arms around him again, hugging him tightly. Erik returned the embrace and silently thanked whatever angel who had been watching over Amarie for not letting anything worse happen to her.

But a part of Erik's heart remained the murderous Phantom of the Opera, and that part of him was raging to be unleashed. The Phantom would avenge Amarie's stolen innocence. This was his solemn vow…

XxXxX

Firmin and Andre met with Réale and his gang later that night.

"What did the girl tell you about the Phantom?"

"A big fat nothing!" Réale spat. "We were at her for an hour! She wouldn't give up a thing!"

"Well… perhaps she might open up if someone took a more gentle approach…" Andre glanced at Firmin. "Like you, Richard…"

"That'll be difficult," Réale snorted. "She's dead!"

"What!" Firmin bellowed. "No! I told you to just _scare_ her! No one _else_ was supposed to _die_ on _his_ account!" He stalked away from the men, stopping a few feet away. "And," he said, running a hand through his hair, "she was our only lead!"

"Perhaps not," Andre murmured, picking up a newspaper. "Look at this: _La Soleil Rogue_ proudly announces their upcoming performance of _Don Juan Triumphant_… and look… they're boasting of a blind star…"

"Blind?" Firmin repeated, putting two and two together. "So… our Phantom has decided to star in his own opera again! Very well." He turned to Réale. "You and your men will be there and be ready. And this time… only _one_ man dies!"

XxXxX

**Oh no! Scary!**

**Poor Amarie... We all feel sorry for her, I'm sure...**

**Alright, maybe that kissing scene was a little disturbing... We do have a gaping age difference here... But I think it ended OK!**

**Please review and let me know what you think.**


	17. An Angel's Fall

**Lot's of positive feedback on that last chapter! Alright! To be honest, I kind of expected to be burned for making Amarie kiss Erik. But I guess we're all over that now, so here's the next chapter...**

**I regret to say that there's only a few chapters left... (_sniff_) This has been so much fun and you guys have been awesome! So give yourselves a pat on the back and enjoy the new chapter!**

XxXxX

Erik exhaled heavily as he prepared himself to go out on stage and sing his bit with Passarino. The opera was going smoothly enough, yet from the time the curtains were raised, Erik could feel the small hairs on the back of his neck pricking up. He had a bad feeling…

"_Passarino_, _faithful friend_, _once again recite the plan_," Erik sang.

His partner sang, "_Your young guest believes I_'_m you – I_,_ the master_,_ you_,_ the man_."

"_When you met you wore my cloak_,_ with my scarf you hid your face_," Erik returned. "_She believes she dines with me_,_ in her master_'_s borrowed place_!"

They finished their scene and Erik headed off into the wings. The pricking at the back of his neck was becoming rather annoying and increasing in its intensity. No… something was definitelynot right at all…

XxXxX

Réale slipped into Firmin and Andre's box. "It's about time you got here!" Firmin grumbled. "Where are the others?"

"I told them to stay away."

"Do you think that is wise?"

"It'll be better if there's fewer of us. Besides… I intend to make it quick and clean…" he showed them the butt of his pistol, hidden in his jacket. "I think the finale shall be _very_ interesting."

Firmin nodded, turning to Andre, who had his gaze fixed on something below them. Following his gaze, he noticed a woman in the audience below, who was staring up at them.

"Richard…" Andre said. "Does that woman look familiar to you…?"

XxXxX

Amarie glided onto the stage, singing sweetly. "…_no thoughts within her head_, _but thoughts of joy_! _No dreams within her heart but dreams of love_!"

"_Oh_…" Erik thought. "_She really does sing like an angel_…"

Erik stepped out onto the stage. "_Passarino_ – _go away_! _For the trap is set and waits for its prey_…" Erik inhaled deeply and addressed Amarie as he sang. "_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge_, _in pursuit of that wish_, _which till now has been silent_… _silent_… _I have brought you_, _that our passions may fuse and merge.__In your mind you_'_ve_ _already succumbed to me_, _dropped all defences_, _completely succumbed to me_. _N__ow you are here with me_. _No second thoughts_, _you_'_ve_ _decided_… _decided_…" Erik began advancing upon her. It was amazing, with the grace and confidence with which he walked, no one would have guessed that he was blind. He just _knew_ where she was. She was there… just a few feet away now. "_Past the point of no return._ _N__o backward glances_. _Ourgames of make-believe__ are at an end_… _Past all thought of_ '_if_' _or_ '_when_'. _N__o use resisting_. _Abandon thought_, _and let the dream descend_…" Erik slipped his arms around her, pulling her close. One arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her towards him in a possessive gesture. The other slipped up to her face and caressed her cheek. "_What raging fire shall flood the soul_? _What rich desire unlocks its door_? _What sweet seduction lies before us_? _Past the point of no return_, _the final threshold._ _W__hat warm_, _unspoken secrets will we learn_? _Beyond the point of no return_…"

Now it was Amarie's turn. Erik smiled faintly as he noticed she was breathing exactly as he had instructed her to, in order to maximize the power of her voice. "_You have brought me to that moment where words run dry_, _to that moment where speech disappears into silence_… _silence_… _I have come here_, _hardly knowing the reason why_… _In my mind_, _I_'_ve_ _already imagined our bodies entwining defenceless and silent._ _N__ow I am here with you_. _No second thoughts_, _I_'_ve_ _decided_… _decided_…" She took his hand and led the blind Don Juan to the bridge. "_Past the point of no return._ _No__ going back now_. _Our passion_-_play has now_, _at last_, _begun_… _Past all thought of right or wrong._ _O__ne final question_: _how long should we two wait_, _before we_'_re one_? _When will the blood begin to race_,_ the sleeping bud burst into bloom_? _When will the flames_, _at last_, _consume us_?"

Now they were standing at the centre of the bridge. This was it. Erik was holding Amarie in his arms. Yet the damned pricking at the back of his neck refused to stop. For the first time, Erik actually feared for Amarie's safety. It was dangerous for them to be up there on that stage together. He knew it. He just wanted to get the scene over with so he could get her out of there. Instinctively, he pulled Amarie closer to himself, attempting to shield her from the dangers that might come. Of course, to the audience, it merely looked like Don Juan was seducing little Aminta by tempting her with the firmness of his own body. How devilish.

Erik and Amarie, who was now wrapped up in his protective embrace, began singing their final duet together. "_Past the point of no return_, _the final threshold_. _The bridge is crossed_,_ so stand and watch it burn_… _We_'_ve passed the point of no return_…"

Erik breathed heavily, his breaths coming out shaky and uneven. Amarie noticed.

"Erik…" she whispered. "Are you alright?"

Erik swallowed and turned Amarie to face him, keeping her close to his chest, with his arms wrapped around her small shoulders. "_Say you_'_ll share with me one love_,_ one lifetime_…_ Lead me_,_ save me from my solitude_…_ Say you want me with you_,_ here beside you_…_ Anywhere you go_,_ let me go too_!_ Love me_,_ that_'_s all I ask of_–"

"Erik! He has a gun!"

Erik raised his head. "Christine?"

Amarie looked out to see Christine Daaé trying desperately to get onto the stage. Looking up, her gaze fell upon the box where Réale was standing. And she saw what Erik couldn't…

"Erik! Get down!" Amarie shoved Erik to the floor. He heard a shot ring out as Amarie landed on top of him. Erik grabbed her and covered her with his body, shielding her from any further gunfire.

The audience was panicking. Erik leaned down and spoke to Amarie. "Amarie? Are you alright?"

No answer.

"Amarie?" A wave of nausea hit Erik as the smell of blood wafted up to his nose.

"Amarie! No! No! No! Please, God! It can't be true!"

But it was true. Amarie put herself in front of the bullet that was meant for Erik. Now the little angel flew back to Heaven once more. Christine knelt by Erik, who held Amarie's lifeless body in his arms.

"Erik…"

"Christine… What are you doing here?"

"I had to see you! Oh, Erik! I missed you! I need you!"

"Christine… Where is he?"

"Who?"

"The man who shot _her_!" He held Amarie's body tightly in his arms.

"I… I saw him run down to the cellar…"

Erik lay Amarie on her back, folding her hands on her chest. He headed to the wings, where he stooped down and groped around the floor. His hands touched a length of rope. He grabbed it up. Christine could see him tying it into a slipknot even as he was making his way to the cellar.

"Erik! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to avenge my angel!" he snarled.

She raced to his side. "I'm coming with you!"

"No! It's too dangerous!"

"Erik… please…" She touched the rope in his hands. "You may need a pair of eyes."

Erik stared blankly for a moment, then gave a firm nod. "Come on!"

Christine and Erik went down the stairs into the cellar, two hunters intent on their prey. Christine stopped in her tracks as they reached the cellar.

"What is it?" Erik's voice was dripping with murderous desire.

"It's dark, Erik! I can't see a thing!"

"I'll bet that's what _he_ was counting on!" Erik reached out and took her hand. "Come. Darkness is my friend."

Christine followed Erik as he made his way into the depths of the cellar with ease. His grip on her hand was hard and cold. Those hands were aching to kill again. Aching to slake his murderous lust. Those hands wanted to seek out the man who had ripped his angel from him, and squeeze the breath from his lungs.

"Wait, Erik!"

"_What_?" He was quickly becoming frustrated. He wanted to kill. He wanted to kill, _now_!

"I think I've found a lamp… and some matches…" She groped around a wooden table by the nearest wall. Successfully striking a match, she lit the lamp and illuminated the room. It was small, crammed full of props and costumes and set pieces from performances played long ago. Christine scanned the small room. "Perhaps he left?"

"No," Erik whispered. "He's here."

Suddenly, a box over in the corner fell over, spilling its contents, and a man cursed.

"He's there, Erik! Ten feet! To your right! Down low!"

Erik threw the noose and caught his victim around the neck with a satisfying choke escaping the man's lips. He pulled the noose tight and threw the man against the wall.

"I'll give you one minute to beg for mercy before I snap your neck!" Erik screamed.

"I'm not begging nothing from you, freak!"

Erik's eyes flew wide. Not because of the insult, but because he recognized the voice.

"You…" Erik whispered. "You were there… the night Raoul de Chagny died!" Dragging the man by the noose, Erik turned Réale to face Christine. "Behold, Christine!" Erik said to her. "The man responsible for your fiancé's death!"

A hand flew to Christine's mouth. "My… my Raoul?"

"That rich chap I bumped off in the streets?" Réale sniggered. "Didn't even get my money's worth!"

Erik turned Réale to face him. "And I'll venture to guess that it was _you_ who dishonoured Amarie last night!"

Réale licked his lips. "You should have been there… she was tough… the way she cried and screamed for some bloke named 'Erik'. She was good! Ah… and the fear in her eyes…"

Erik cut him off by punching him hard in the jaw. "And _I_ shall greatly enjoy hearing _your_ screams of horror as you breathe your last!" With that, Erik tore off his mask, revealing his monstrous face to the one who was the true monster. A scream ripped through the cellar, and the look of sheer terror was forever engraved on Réale's face as Erik viciously broke the man's neck in two.

XxXxX

**Whoa, damn...**

**Who thinks Erik's life sucks, raise your hand...**

**(Thousands of phans raise their hands)**

**Poor Erik... His best friend got shot... Is there no end to his torment?**

**Perhaps not...**

**But hey... at least he still has a million adoring phan girls who still love him!**

**Review please, and let me know how much you all hate me for Amarie's untimely death...**


	18. Learn to be Lonely

**OK, I got scorched for killing off Amarie... Bring on the flame-throwers!**

**At least you were all honest...**

**But at least there's one person who's happy that Christine is back in the picture!**

**Just this chapter and an epilogue left... No!**

**Enjoy...**

XxXxX

Erik let the corpse drop to the floor, his hunger satiated. He replaced his mask on his face and turned to Christine. "Let's go." He held out a hand to her, which she took. He noticed that she was trembling. "Don't be afraid," he said in a reassuring voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Christine and Erik returned to the stage, where paramedics were already lifting Amarie's body onto a stretcher. The theatre was empty, save for police officers and a few cast members. Lachappelle had gone into hysterics over his daughter's body, and so had to be removed from the theatre.

"What's happening?" Erik asked Christine.

"Almost everyone is gone," she told him. "The police are here. They're taking… they're taking Amarie away…"

"Wait!" Erik said, striding over to where he had left Amarie. The paramedics looked up at Erik with an inquiring gaze. "I want to… I want to _see_ her…"

"Erik," Christine started, but the pleading look in his blind eyes silenced her. She nodded at the paramedics, who immediately stepped back.

Erik knelt beside Amarie. Reaching out, he touched her face. He traced her round cheeks with his fingers… low, sloping forehead, perfect nose, small jaw, soft lips…

"What colour is her hair?" he asked.

"Red," Christine replied. "Like a sunset."

"Like a rose," Erik murmured, dedicating her delicate features to his memory. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers, still untouched by death's cold hand. "What about her eyes?"

"Green."

Erik removed his hand from her face. He knelt there quietly for what seemed like an hour, picturing her face in his mind. Finally, he spoke. "She's beautiful…"

"Yes, Erik. She _was_ beautiful…"

He reached out and touched her throat, felt the chain that was still there. She still had his ring. She had kept it safe, just like she promised him. With a slow, sad sigh, he removed the chain from her neck and held it in his hand. After a moment, he placed the chain around his own neck once more. He reached out and found one small, limp hand. He held it, recalling the first day he had touched that hand. She had been the annoying little girl back then. Now his heart was breaking knowing that he would never feel her hand in his again.

"Who will be there for me now?" he asked, half to himself, half to Amarie.

Christine placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm here, Erik." She paused, looking into Amarie's face. "Erik… she's smiling."

Erik held her hand a moment longer before replacing it on her chest.

"Well done, angel…"

XxXxX

Erik was a wreck at Amarie's funeral. He left a single red rose by her headstone, sinking to the ground and weeping. When the affair was over, Christine led him to her carriage. It was time to return to Paris. _La Soleil Rouge_ had closed its doors, and Madame Giry had graciously opened her home to Erik and Christine. Erik had nowhere to go, and after Raoul had died, Christine was also in need of a home. So the two lived together with Madame Giry, as they both tried to recover from their losses.

Erik fell into a deep depression. Often he woke up in the middle of the night screaming. Other days he thought he was still at _La Soleil Rouge_ and would become quite confused and distressed when he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. But most often he was very sick, vomiting up whatever Madame Giry convinced him to eat and tossing in his bed with a violent fever.

One night, Christine lay wide-awake in bed, unable to fall asleep. She noticed that, for the first time in weeks, all was silent in Erik's room. Almost too silent…

She decided to slip on her dressing robe and check up on him. Tip-toeing down the hall, she made her way to Erik's room and opened the door.

"Erik? Are you alright?"

Her heart nearly stopped when she saw him, standing in the middle of the room, putting his Punjab lasso over his own head.

"Erik! Stop!" Christine raced over to him and tore the noose from his neck. As she did so, he fell to the floor, sobbing.

"Amarie! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Erik! What are you talking about?"

Erik didn't even seem to realize that Christine was there. "It's my fault she's dead! It's my fault the Vicomte's dead! It's all my fault! I deserve nothing less than the fires of Hell!"

"Don't say that, Erik!" Christine cried as she knelt beside him. "It's not your fault! You tried to save her! It's not your fault Raoul died, either. It just happened… you didn't mean for it…"

Erik raised his head, as if realizing she was there for the first time. "Christine? She's gone, Christine… She's really gone! Oh, God! How can I live without her? She's the only friend I ever had, and she's gone!"

"Hush, Erik," Christine whispered as she pulled him close, allowing his head to rest on her shoulder.

"I… I keep trying to tell myself that… she's in a better place…"

Christine stroked his bare back, lightly running her fingers up his spine. She raised his face, and then firmly pressed her lips against his.

Erik drew back, surprised by the sudden feeling of her soft lips against his, but then slowing leaned in closer, deepening their embrace. He hesitantly raised a hand to caress her cheek.

Christine broke the embrace momentarily and looked into his unseeing eyes. "Erik… I came to the theatre that night to tell you I was sorry for what I said to you about Raoul… I didn't mean it… I was just so… numb… I want to be with you, Erik. I want _this_." She pulled him closer, and he leaned down to savour the pleasures of her sweet mouth once again.

His hands began to move around her, exploring her body through the thin material of her dressing gown. He aroused her as his mouth searched her, using both his teeth and his tongue, tantalizing her without mercy. She moaned softly as his hands found their way into her dressing gown, caressing the sensitized flesh.

They shared their love that night. When they were finished he gathered her into his arms with infinite gentleness, stroking her naked skin as he sang her to sleep. Before Erik joined her insleep, he lay awake for a while, certain that this all must be a dream, for what angel would ever surrender her innocence to a monster? At least his dream was pleasant and peaceful, not like the terrible nightmares he had been having for the past several weeks…

But when Erik awoke, much to his surprise, a small warm body was curled up in his embrace, with the smell of vanilla and lavender permeating his senses as he buried his face into her long, curly hair.

XxXxX

**Well... Not as breath-taking as the last couple of chapters... But at least Erik and Christine are back together! Yay, E/C!**

**I suppose you're all rather bitter still because I killed Amarie...**

**Well... Just wait until the next chapter... (_sniff_) The _very_ last chapter...**

**Review, please! And if some of you still feel like flaming me for killing Amarie... What the heck! Go ahead!**

**Just review!**


	19. Epilogue

**OK, I think I've been generally forgiven for killing Amarie... That's good, because it would suck if I had to end this fic with all of you hating me...**

**NO! It's the last chapter!**

**Well, I hope this is satisfactory... Please, enjoy...**

XxXxX

_Seven years later_…

Erik sat alone again…

He paused for a moment, then his fingers swept over the keys of his organ once more, pouring out a beautiful melody. He suddenlybroke off, picking up his quill to write the notes down.

He wascomposing once again…

Years of rehabilitation and hard work had restored some of Erik's old skill to him. He was only a mere shadow of his former talent, but at least he could still do what he always loved to do… pour out his heart and share his soul through music…

Erik used a ruler as he wrote the music down to keep his lines straight… Of course, he would need a scribe to rewrite his ink scratchings later. A blind man's writing was, at best, difficult to translate…

Erik was almost finished when he suddenly froze. The small hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He felt a presence behind him. He could hear it breathe.

They were alone, he and it. It was by itself. Erik stilled his breathing. The tension in the air was like a thick blanket of fog, closing in around Erik and the one who stalked him. Neither said anything. Neither moved. But this was how it would always be… that tense moment of nothingness just before the predator attacked. Then there would be nothing Erik could do…

Erik's muscles tensed as he waited for the attack… he did not have to wait long…

The predator sprung…

A five-year-old girl launched herself into Erik's lap, squealing happily.

"Amarie-Rose!" Erik scolded lightly as he mussed up her hair. "You know better than to sneak up on me when I'm working!"

"You're always working, Papa!" the child giggled. "Mama says to get away from the organ and get ready, or we'll be late!"

Erik held his daughter close to his chest as he recalled the last seven years. Erik O'Reilly Giry had died the night he left Paris. He assumed the new alias, Erik Gobeil. For the first several months, Erik lived with Madame Giry. He invested the little money he had made at _La Soleil Rouge_, and soon it had grown to a substantial amount.

The floundering Opera Populaire finally went under, and Andre and Firmin were forced to sell the building before returning to the junk business out in the country. Neither man was ever seen in Paris again.

The Opera Populaire was sold to a man who would have torn the old building down, had Erik not intervened. He paid a great deal for the building, after which he immediately had it renovated, until the old building looked grander than ever before. In less than a year, Erik had opened the Opera du Fantôme, and it was more successful than he could have ever dreamed. Erik became quite wealthy, later opening up several other theatres and conservatoires throughout France. He employed Madame Giry as head ballet mistress in his prestigious opera house, paying her almost triple what she had earned working at the Opera Populaire. He hired several other men to manage his theatres, but Erik himself managed the Opera du Fantôme. Of all his theatres, it was the most successful. He was known throughout the country as a successful businessman, and was well-respected among the upper-class citizens.

Despite all of his good fortune, Erik's memories of his own suffering gave him a heart of true compassion for those less fortunate than he. He earned a reputation as a kind and generous man who never hesitated to give to the poor and destitute. In truth, Erik Gobeil was the man that every man wanted to be like.

But the most important thing Erik did was marry Christine…

They had helped each other through their grief; Erik's over Amarie and Christine's over Raoul. They rebuilt an old friendship, grew to care for each other, and when Erik's theatre became successful, he asked her to marry him. She tearfully accepted as he slipped his ring onto her finger. At last, they could share their love with each other and be a family.

First came little Amarie-Rose. A year later, there was Erik Raoul Jr. Now, Christine was in her eighth month with their third child. It was more than he could have ever asked for…

"Papa!" Amarie protested from his warm embrace. "Too tight!"

"Sorry," he said, letting her slide off his lap. He felt her grab his hand and pull him from the bench. Amarie led her blind father away from the organ and handed him his cane.

"Come on!" she said impatiently. "We'll be late! I want to see your opera!"

"She's right, Erik…" Erik smiled at the sound of his wife's voice. "_Angel in Disguise_ has been the most anticipated opera since your theatre opened. It would not do for its composer not to be present at the premiere."

Erik walked towards her voice. "Well, then," he said. "Let's not keep them waiting." He put a hand out and touched Christine's swollen belly. He felt a tiny kick against his hand. Erik never grew tired of feeling his child move about inside of Christine. With a smile, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

"Ew! Papa!" Erik Jr. cried out, making his presence in the room known. "That's yucky!"

"Yeah, Papa!" Amarie joined in. "Gross!"

"What can I say?" Erik asked innocently. "Your mama brings out the worst in me." He turned back to her with a smile on his lips and growled playfully.

Squealing, the children ran from the room before their parents could do anything else that was 'yucky'. Erik turned to Christine once again.

"How is our baby doing?" he asked softly.

"Going to be a little dancer, the way she kicks!" Christine replied.

"That's what I like to hear. Perhaps I'll put her to work in my theatre."

"No, you'll be too busy doting on her."

"True… very true…" Erik was about to lean down for another kiss when Amarie's impatient voice called from outside.

"Mama! Papa! Hurry! We'll be late!"

Sighing, Christine took Erik's arm and the couple wandered out into the foyer, where a servant handed Erik his cloak and hat, then wrapped a warm robe around Christine's shoulders.

Erik and Christine left their large home and went out into the frigid December air, out to the carriage where Amarie and Erik Jr. waited with the driver, Noggs. Erik helped Christine step into the carriage. Once everyone was in and settled, Erik addressed the driver. "To the Opera du Fantôme, Noggs."

"Of course, Monsieur Gobeil," came the reply.

Erik felt a small jolt as the carriage began to move. Then they were moved away swiftly, off to see Erik's opera.

Christine squeezed his hand. "Oh, Erik… it's so lovely tonight… I wish you could see it… the stars are so bright… it's snowing… oh, it's so pretty…"

"Yes, it's beautiful," Erik agreed.

Christine shot him a double take. "You mean… it _sounds_ beautiful," she said.

"No. I mean it's beautiful. You know me well enough by now to know I don't say things without meaning them."

"But…" Christine sounded so confused. "How do you…?"

"I simply know it is beautiful," Erik explained. "How can it not be? I am here: alive and happy, surrounded by my three angels…" He reached out and placed a hand on her round stomach. "Well… I suppose it's four angels now, isn't it?"

Christine smiled and kissed his unmasked cheek, entwining her fingers with his. She rested her head on his shoulder. He felt her warm breath on his neck.

Erik almost couldn't believe that a man who was once called a demon could be blessed with a lifetime beside the woman he loved, and children who looked beyond the mask and saw a loving father. He silently thanked the Powers That Be for giving him a second chance at love. He certainly hoped he hadn't disappointed Them…

Erik raised his face to the night sky. As the wind blew past his face, he remembered… A red-haired, bouncy little girl for whom his eldest child was named, and who had shown him kindness, happiness, trust, but most of all, love. He never saw her face, but he remembered each hug, the warmth of her hand, and the sound of her laugh. Even now, he knew she was there, watching over him.

Amarie had kept her promise…

"Your four angels love you very much," Christine whispered into his ear.

Erik smiled, raising his face to the night sky once more.

"Yes. And my Angel in Disguise makes five…"

**THE END**

XxXxX

**Aww... Things turned out not too bad for Erik after all...**

**I know some of you were probably expecting me to do something like give Erik his sight back, but I thought that would be just a little too unrealistic.**

**I can't believe it's over!**

**Well, I would like to thank all of you for sticking with me on this and reviewing frequently. Special thanks to the Lady of Mirkwood, my proof-reader... I think she reviewed every single chapter! And as for the rest of you... Well, you know who you are! An e-hug goes out to every single one of you.**

**Thank you so much!**

**Luv you all!**


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